Null Heart: Interdimensional Catastrophe
by amiavamp
Summary: The four goddesses of Gamindustri receive a mysterious distress call from another land, where they find themselves tasked with restoring a broken world insistent on bending to reality's will. Yet, they must first face the truth of what it means to be a CPU, lest they drown in a whirlpool of despair.
1. Prologue - Incongruous

_AN: A huge thanks to Ghost 501, Shadow1176, and striberx for assisting me with this massive project of a story._

 _Please do enjoy._

 _After all, it is up to one's own self to decide how to spend one's limited time._

* * *

 _Begin Experiment Log S-98: Incongruous._

 _Play._

Screams. Gunfire. Smoke. Another page was turning in the ever-lasting war that had seen Gamindustri brought to its brink. No one knew how much longer the conflict could go on. Resources were starved, and citizens were dwindling. Such a small world could only offer so much.

This world was all that its inhabitants knew. And all of them knew that to render it uninhabitable would be beyond foolish. Yet, peace had failed. Treaties had been broken. Battles raged on in endless stalemate, coming and going as if the ebbing and flowing of the tides covering the surface of the never-ending ocean below. No one could even remember an era in which Gamindustri had not been embroiled in combat.

This time, the enemy had hardly even waited for daybreak to resume the offensive. Black Heart stood atop her nation's Basilicom in the heart of Lastation, wondering which opponent had been so eager to throw their heads against a wall. Not that it mattered – her land's defenses had held firm for so long, and they would continue to do so.

Still, she had to admit that her curiosity was piqued. Surely, the aggressor was not Leanbox – Vert would never manage to wake herself in time to carry out such an early attack. Something also told her that Lowee was not behind this, given Blanc's bullheaded strategy of amassing her forces for an all-out attack once every week against what she perceived to be the weakest target. Lowee had already been repelled three days ago, and it was doubtful that Blanc would be changing her tactics anytime soon when she seemed to be getting stronger each and every time.

That left Planeptune.

A sigh escaped Black Heart's lips. She wasn't afraid to admit that the only reason Purple Heart's nation had yet to completely dominate the land seemed to be due to its lack of effort more than anything else. The nation appeared unwilling to fully devote itself to war, unlike the others, and its attacks came sporadically, usually without any particular objective in mind. Any attack made against Planeptune, however, was deflected with ease, leading to it being an unpopular target, both for combat and espionage.

Was the issue one of leadership? It was hard to say. Purple Heart had proven herself multiple times to be the strongest of the four CPUs of Gamindustri in regards to single combat, but how effective was she at leading a nation to war?

"Lady Black Heart!" A man came running up from behind, panting heavily. He must have had quite the stairway to climb to reach the roof – elevators were forbidden in the wake of an ever-constricting energy shortage. "We have confirmed reports of a new offensive begun by Planeptune! Their force is different than any we have ever seen before! Larger! More powerful! With weapons that cannot even be identified! We humbly beg for your assistance on the battlefield, Lady Black Heart!"

Black Heart's eyes narrowed, her gaze focused on the horizon where plumes of smoke and flashes of gunfire could already be seen. "I know."

"Then, please – you must aid us, Lady Black Heart. I am afraid that our defenses may not hold for long against such an overwhelming force."

The CPU turned to face the messenger. "Don't be ridiculous. Lastation will never fall. Not while I am your goddess."

"O-Of course, Lady Black Heart." The man gave a respectful bow. "My deepest apologies for the insult that I have brought you, Lady Black Heart."

"You're dismissed."

The man bowed again, but by the time he looked up, the CPU was already gone.

Crossing the distance to the battle was a trivial task for a being such as Black Heart. It was as the man had said – a new type of foe was on display. An aerial assault was already underway, consisting of an armada of aircraft that filled the horizon. Had Planeptune been saving up for this?

Planes were firing missiles into the defenses bordering the floating island that Lastation rested upon, even as the multitude of anti-air weaponry lining the walls created a barrier of flak and ammunition. Despite the effectiveness of Lastation's weapons, their massive barrels letting loose a deafening barrage as if in rhythm, it was clear that they weren't enough to stop the attack in its tracks. Soon, a series of smaller planes came darting in, shooting out a spray of bombs that seemed to fall just short of their targets, disappearing beneath the edge of the island.

 _Hah. I guess Planeptune's randomness extends to the reliability of its weapons._

Next came the expected airdrops, but their payload was most curious. A few were turned into balls of fire in the sky, but most hit their marks inside the nation's walls, crashing down to the ground at speeds much faster than those that were possible with Lastation's parachute-based systems.

Black Heart flew over to examine one of the craters that were formed more closely. Her forces lining the streets were already firing upon the bullet-shaped pods to little effect. Then, the one below her burst open in a fashion not unlike that of a hatching egg to reveal a vehicle that seemed to be half-tank, half-man. It quickly unfolded to line its arms up to the barricade from which it was being attacked. Beneath the sounds of battle, a low electric hum could be heard, building up to a fevered pitch before the vehicle's arms unleashed a duo of violet-tinted lasers. The effect was devastating, completely incinerating anything that the wide beams touched. They did not cease until the vehicle was no longer faced with any opponents. It then rolled out of its pod, continuing onward in search of more targets.

 _That's going to be a problem._

Black Heart swooped down, sword at the ready. She wasted no time yelling a taunt, her blade soon making contact with the metallic surface of the vehicle's head. To her satisfaction, it cleaved right through, cutting a swath through the machine and leaving it a sputtering, jerking heap. She chanced a moment to peek into its exposed torso, the only place large enough to possible seat a person. No one was visible inside – just a mess of sparking wires and circuitry.

 _Completely autonomous? Hah. Looks like they figured out how to get around the population issue. No wonder their force is so large. I know some researchers who would_ love _to get their hands on something like this._

A series of beeps of increasing pitch then met her ears. She had an idea of what that meant, but by the time she realized it, she was far too late to escape. The robot exploded into a fiery spray of shrapnel, throwing the goddess back into the broken pavement of the road below. She took only a moment to allow her senses to recover before picking herself up to her feet, relatively unharmed.

 _Well, then. Looks like they don't want us learning their secrets._

She was far from done, of course. The battle continued on through the streets of Lastation as the sun slowly made its way across the sky. It was quickly becoming apparent that Black Heart was indeed the only asset keeping the enemies at bay – despite the valiance of Lastation's people, their armaments simply weren't enough to contend with the advances that Planeptune had made stewing in silence behind its walls.

Eventually, she found herself winded, the power of even a goddess having its limits. It was hard to deny the sense of hopelessness that was beginning to creep at the back of Black Heart's mind. _This might be the one – the battle that finally hurts us._ She shook her head. _No. My nation will not be the first to fall. I refuse!_

Then, just as she took a brief moment away from the fighting to catch her breath, the ground beneath her began to rumble. At first she mistook it for the force created by the trademark artillery that her soldiers used, but it began to increase in intensity to the point where she was finding it hard to balance.

Some instinct within her urged her to move – she shot up into the air despite the energy such a motion required of her. The sound of a mighty explosion then came from beneath her, which would have proved deafening to anything less than a CPU. The ground had been ripped asunder with a spray of pavement and debris, replaced by the sight of a massive machine bearing a drill on its front. It soon exited the hole it had formed, righting itself on a set of tank treads. A dual-barreled turret unfolded on top and swiveled around before steadying on a target – as the vehicles seen previously had done, a whine of energy was heard before being unleashed in a twin purple beam, carving a scar across a towering building in the distance.

A chorus of drills could be heard all around as an entire army of the machines burst from the ground, each of them pausing a moment to take a shot at what seemed to be random targets. Black Heart's hesitation ended as she charged downward, taking a swing at the tank that had emerged from directly below her.

"What?!"

Her sword had simply bounced off with a _clang_ against the vehicle's armor as if she was using a butter knife. Several repeated strikes had a similar effect, accomplishing nothing but a waste of energy.

"That's _ridiculous!_ Nothing can stop—"

Black Heart's existence was turned into light and pain as something then struck her from behind, throwing her to the ground to just as suddenly snuff out the light of the world.

She had no idea how long it was before she regained control of conscious movement. An attempt to lift her head was met with immediate regret when a terrible sharpness shot through her, eliciting a pained gasp. The sounds of battle were still raging somewhere in the distance – no matter her condition, she had an obligation to defend her people. Gritting her teeth, she began to push herself up from the ground, eventually succeeding in rising to a knee.

"Hm. I can't say I'm not impressed. You never were one to accept defeat, were you, Noire?"

Black Heart took a moment to catch her breath before moving her gaze upward to meet the luminous eyes of another goddess standing several feet away. "Neptune. You're going to pay for this." She didn't waste more time mincing with words, instead choosing to suddenly jump to her feet, grabbing her sword from the ground and launching a lightning-fast strike at her enemy. Her attack was easily parried, a dramatic flash of sparks exploding from the clashing blades, before Purple Heart knocked her back with a counterattack.

It was all Black Heart could do to simply glare when she recovered, sword at the ready, her breaths coming with difficulty. She knew she was thoroughly outmatched. She realized that perhaps a hundred weapons were pointed her direction, waiting to fry her into nothingness. But she also knew that there would be no tomorrow for her if she gave up now – and even if she survived, she wouldn't be able to live with that decision.

Purple Heart suddenly gave a humorless chuckle. "I'm sorry, Noire. I know this must be hard for you to accept. I won't insult your pride by asking you to surrender." The CPU raised her own blade, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed her target. "Unfortunately, you must be removed from this world if this war is to ever end."

"Like _hell_ I do!"

The corner of Purple Heart's mouth turned upward. "If you believe yourself to be the future ruler of Gamindustri, then this is your final chance. Noire – show me what a cornered jackal can do."

Hardly a second had passed before Black Heart was rushing back into combat, leaping into the air to dive at Purple Heart for a sudden attack from above. As before, she was deflected with ease – and the barrage of hits she unleashed next were just as fruitless. She was just barely managing to trade blows, dodging and parrying each counterattack with all the strength and skill she could muster. It was clear that Purple Heart was an insurmountable foe in a duel, as she had always been.

Of course, both fighters were accustomed to honorable combat, but there were more options available to beings known as goddesses. It pained Black Heart to resort to what seemed like cheating, but the future of her people was on the line. Surely they would forgive her.

She gave a practiced feint, abruptly striking from a new direction with incredible speed. As expected, the blow was blocked, but it provided the opening she needed, as Purple Heart would be unable to quickly give a strike in return and likely expected the series of attacks to continue. Black Heart took that moment to gather energy within herself, feeling the desperate shares of Lastation build to an unprecedented level. In the next moment, she gave a scream as she unleashed that energy in a deafening shockwave that buckled the ground beneath her. Purple Heart's eyes went wide as she was sent flying back to land in a heap some distance away, apparently stunned.

Black Heart stood panting, feeling drained after such a display. At this point, she was barely managing to maintain the form of a goddess, but she could hardly stop now – her opponent was wide open. Yet, she paused as she came to stand over Purple Heart's vulnerable form.

"You're stronger than I gave you credit for," spoke the CPU of Planeptune, her expression formed into a grimace. "Your shares are burning brightly within you. The people of Lastation…how devoted they must be in their hour of need."

Black Heart knew that the smart thing to do would be to end this here and now. She could feel her mind sending the impulse to raise her sword, but her arm refused to comply.

 _Make your decision. The shock to her motor functions will not last long. A mortal would have been paralyzed, but a CPU can easily recover from such a blow._

"What's this? I've never known the goddess of Lastation to be a coward before."

"I…"

A vision suddenly flashed through Black Heart's mind – Purple Heart in her human form, laughing and smiling as she ran from Noire's own human self after telling a silly pun. In another, the four goddesses stood side by side several others Black Heart did not recognize, joined together in an effort to defeat a much greater foe. In yet another, a dimension unlike any that had ever been seen, populated by monstrous beings beyond description. A hundred such images appeared, a lucid slideshow of thoughts that refused to release their hold.

 _A countless number of possible existences lie just beyond your sight, CPU of Lastation. I can only wonder how your own will end._

Black Heart blinked, feeling her eyes refocus on her rival's expectant gaze. It almost felt as if a new level of awareness had dawned upon her – every sight and sound seemed that it had been coming to her before through a fog, and only now was she fully awake. Her muscles tensed, knowing that her next move would decide the fate of more than just the two dueling CPUs.

 _Kill her. This is your last chance._

"No…I can't!" Black Heart threw aside her sword with more force than intended, the numbness overtaking her body making it difficult to control herself. "This isn't how it's supposed to be!"

"Noire?" Purple Heart stared in surprise for several seconds before recovering from her shock. She leapt to her feet, assuming a battle-ready stance. "That was foolish. I can't say I'm sure why you spared me, but I'm afraid that I can't extend the same mercy to yourself. Goodbye, Noire."

"But…Neptune! This is all wrong! I—"

Any further words the CPU of Lastation had to say were ended by a single, decisive thrust. The goddess could only stare down at the blade sticking through her before her form faded away, being swept into the invisible current of share energy that permeated all of Gamindustri.

 _End of Experiment Log S-98: Incongruous._

 _Rewind._

.irtsudnimaG fo lla detaemrep taht ygrene erahsfotnerrucelbisivniehtotg, —


	2. A World of Bliss

_Begin Experiment Log S-H-540: Null Heart, Part 1.  
_

 _Play._

* * *

"Let's see…this morning, I have three back-to-back meetings with Avenir personnel…Hah! They never do stop complaining about the ordinances I implemented, do they? I'd like to see them try to change _my_ mind! Hm…then I need to be thirty minutes early to a photo shoot – because apparently a goddess can't do her own makeup…Ah, and then I have a speech to make, of course! The people of Lastation need to know the bright future their goddess has in store for them!"

Noire continued down the list of chores she had written for herself, which covered nearly the entire wall of a living room, being projected from a fancy new gadget she'd just had installed onto the ceiling. Originally, she had started out with post-it notes, then a notebook, and then a giant whiteboard, but the daily list had just kept growing and growing in size with each passing day until it had grown unmanageable even for Noire. Finally, she'd taken up Histoire's suggestion to go digital, as much as it pained the CPU of Lastation to do so – the use of such tech was far too Planeptunian of a solution for her tastes. Still, it was awfully convenient to be able to update and synchronize her to-do list from anywhere with her phone.

The sound of muffled footsteps making their way down a flight of stairs came from behind Noire. "Good morning, onee-chan." This was followed by a noisy yawn.

"…Aaaaand I need to see Uni off to school." Noire had almost forgotten – today was the big day. She could recall squeezing it into the list somewhere, but she practically went cross-eyed trying to find it on the wall. Noire turned on her heel, making sure to stomp down her other foot with a notable _thump_ on the solid floor of the living area. She perched her hands on her hips, watching Uni gulp down a glass of cold water that she'd gotten from the kitchen section of the room. "Why are you yawning, young lady? Didn't I tell you to go to bed early last night? If I end up hearing that you've been sleeping in class—"

Uni let out a whiny groan. "Gee, onee-chan! Of course I went to bed on time! It's just…" Her voice dropped a little in volume, her head turning away bashfully. "I was so nervous thinking about it that I could hardly sleep…"

Noire's gaze narrowed slightly – sometimes it was hard to believe that this timid little girl was her own sister. "Well, you'd better manage to put a little pep in your step. _Pep pep!_ " Noire clapped her hands together twice as she said this. "You've got a busy day ahead of you, and you're going to need all the energy you can get!"

"But _every_ day's a busy day!" Uni gave a little sigh as she placed her glass next to the sink – right next to the glass her sister had drank from earlier that morning – knowing that she'd have to get to it later. Noire apparently used to hire servants to clean up the various rooms of the Basilicom's living quarters, but those servants had mysteriously left the CPU's employ ever since Uni had arrived. Gee. If Noire's budget was _that_ tight, there was no _wonder_ her living room was so basic. The contrast between Uni's own home and that of Nepgear always left her a little jealous whenever she managed to sneak away from Noire during their visits to Planeptune's capitol building.

"Uni? What did I tell you about sighing? It's unbecoming of a goddess, you know."

In response, Uni unconsciously gave an even more irritated sigh.

" _Uni?_ " Noire said, much like a parent warning her child.

Uni threw her arms down in frustration. " _Okay,_ _onee-chan!_ "

Noire continued to give her sister a scrutinizing gaze as the girl slipped on her shoes before stepping over to the CPU of Lastation. Uni looked up at her older sister, school bag clasped nervously in her hands, her eyes eventually averting to the side. The silence between them began to drag to an uncomfortable length before Noire was struck by the fact that she wasn't quite sure what she should do.

 _° (^_^) If I may, Noire – this is a milestone that many denizens of Gamindustri face at least once in their lives. It is evident that your sister will be quite nervous on her very first day of school. After all, it will be the longest she's ever been away from you! If you wish to help keep her focused, why not try giving her some form of encouragement, such as a pat on the head, or a friendly family kiss? I'm sure she will appreciate the support from her older sister!_

The wise words of Histoire played themselves in Noire's head as if the fairy was physically present over her shoulder, whispering advice into her ear. So, with that in mind, the CPU leaned right down to plant a quick peck on Uni's forehead.

The girl's face immediately began to turn red as a beet, her mouth scrunching up a little as if embarrassment was capable of tasting sour in itself. " _Onee-chaaaan!_ " she finally exclaimed, stepping back and making an indignant "hmph," her eyes turning away again.

Noire gave a quiet giggle, a little surprised at both her own and Uni's actions. Maybe her sister was more like herself than she thought. Then again, if Neptune tried to land a smooch on _her,_ she wasn't sure if she would respond with just indignation…

The goddess shook her head, feeling a warmth creeping upon her own cheeks. She made sure to put a smile on her face as she said, "Do your best – okay?"

Uni's eyes moved back to Noire momentarily as the girl gave a tiny nod.

With that out of the way, the goddess stepped over to front door that led out to the main hall of the Basilicom, reaching toward it to open it for Uni. "Remember – as soon as you get back, I'll be expecting you to join me for—" Noire froze mid-stride as a sudden thought plucked a chord of panic into her. She rushed over to a kitchen countertop, noting the massive stack of textbooks present there. "Uni, here! Quick!"

Uni did a little jog to move to her sister's side. "What is it, onee-ch— _oorfph._ " Several of the textbooks were dropped into her arms, causing her to bend downwards almost to the floor. Before she could complain, or indeed, even finish lifting herself back upright, another book was deposited on top. And then another, and another…

"Good grief!" Uni exclaimed with a slightly strained voice, still clinging onto her school bag even beneath the weight of the pile that stretched up to her chin. "What _is_ all of this junk?"

Noire crossed her arms, making sure to give a stern look down at her sister. "Uni, this is not 'junk.' A CPU needs to be properly educated in order to serve her people most effectively. You don't want to end up as a drooling, blubbering idiot like Neptune, do you?"

Uni made sure to breathe out her sigh as quietly as possible. "No, onee-chan." She didn't add that Neptune seemed to be doing just fine at holding her own against the other nations without any formal education. Any mention by Uni of the purple-haired goddess tended to put Noire in a right fine mood, and the _last_ thing Uni wanted was to be grounded on top of having to deal with her first day of school. Plus, there was…whatever else her older sister had planned for her later. Probably more boring meetings with boring old businessmen about boring old business. _Blech._

Noire gave a nearly inaudible sigh of her own. "I'll be waiting for you in the office when you get back, alright?"

Another wave of embarrassment threatened to wash over Uni as she stepped over to front of the living area, where one of her designated escorts – an employee of the Basilicom dressed in the sharpest of suits – was now holding open the door, tapping his foot and checking his watch impatiently. "Okay, onee-chan."

Noire practically felt herself deflate as soon as she heard the door click shut. Immediately, she was struck by the stillness within the room – the only sounds meeting her ears were the low hums present in the background generated by the Basilicom's various ventilation and electrical systems.

 _Was I too hard on her?_

Noire never managed to get a straight answer out of Histoire whenever she asked that question. The fairy was, as a construct of the old goddess, interested in ensuring that all of the CPUs performed their duties to an acceptable level of competence, but she had an annoying habit of taking a hands-off approach in regards to the governance of each land. Still, she at least attempted to give some words of wisdom whenever the CPUs pestered her with questions – but there was one question that always seemed to annoy her to no end whenever it was brought up.

 _Why are the CPUs made to fight one another?_

Once upon a time, the answer to that had been self-evident to the goddess of Lastation. Lately, however, she had found that question worrying upon her mind more often than not.

 _｡_ _(`_ _Д´)_ _゜｡_ _Gah!_ _I have already told you a dozen times, Noire! The CPUs are kept fragmented to prevent them from ever growing powerful enough to bring calamity upon the world! Must I worry that Neptune is not the only one who is suffering from memory loss?!_

Noire made her way over to the stairway that led to the floor above. Her steps were slower than they normally would be, her hand gripping the railing with more strength than was necessary. As she reached the top, she was greeted with a tall hallway that stretched to either side for some ways. It had once been an ostentatious affair, decorated with such ornate trappings that there was no doubting the stately aura of this place, but those decorations had since been plundered and sold by a few entrepreneurial ex-employees during her last long-term absence from the Basilicom. A sight that had once filled her with pride now never failed to create a stab of shame within her.

Out of all of the lands of Gamindustri, Lastation had been hit the hardest by the tail end of the Console War. Even to this day, Noire was still struggling to get her nation's budget in order, so there was little money left over to spend on sundry trinkets to spruce the place up a bit – something that Uni had complained about quite vocally on several occasions. Noire could definitely understand Uni's sentiment – bare gunmetal walls were hardly befitting of a goddess' sanctuary – but the needs of the people came first.

The people _always_ came first. That was the number one rule of being a CPU. Uni had yet to have this drilled into her – but, eventually, the day would come where she would rule her very own nation. Then, she would learn the hard way. Just as Noire had.

No fun. No games. No friends. Certainly no fraternizing between the CPUs themselves. A goddess must always sacrifice for the needs of others, no matter her own wishes. To think otherwise was to have one's existence erased from the world as her so-called friends drained her shares to nothing.

Some humans thought that, behind all the pretty smiles, the speeches, and the PR, being a CPU was a tough job.

They were right.

Noire stumbled her way into her room, falling upon her bed with none of the usual grace she presented herself with. She lay there for a time, wondering at how nice it felt to be still for once. She allowed her mind to blank itself, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. She had a few minutes, given that she planned to be "fashionably" late to the latest series of meetings with Avenir – may as well try to enjoy the moment of respite.

Histoire had noted multiple times that Noire appeared to be high-strung, but, of course, offered no solutions to this. The only long-term answers would violate the long-standing status quo of a Gamindustri of four separate nations. More problematic was that even the short-term solutions were ineffective. In the rare moments where Noire managed to steal away a little free time, it was even rarer for her to spend that free time in an unstressful manner. Her mind almost always managed to wander its way into the uncomfortable thoughts that had begun to plague her ever since the end of the Console War.

 _I'm tired._

She almost laughed at the banality of the statement she muttered to herself. It was certainly true in a physical sense – the heaviness of her eyelids attested to that much. Yet, there was another applicable element beyond that.

 _I've got a long, long life ahead of me._

She couldn't even remember how old she was anymore. At some point during the centuries of conflict that had only just recently drawn to a close, she had deduced that she would live forever, and that was that. She would exist perpetually upon this floating rock above an endless ocean, serving as the CPU of Lastation for the rest of time. She doubted anyone would have any objections to that – except maybe Uni.

 _How do the others manage to handle—_

A cheery little tune interrupted her brooding. Good thing, too – she was already starting to drool into her pillow in a most Neptunian manner. A few more minutes, and she would've been having a miserable time in about two hours. She breathed a quiet sigh through her nose, lazily reaching for a pocket within her dress to retrieve her phone. Deciding that she wasn't in the best position for speaking with the proper cadence of a goddess, she forced herself to roll over, then rose to a sitting position.

"Mm…moshi moshi?"

 _Yes, it's "moshi moshi," Vert. A simple "hello" does not suffice._

"(^～^;)ゞ Ah…hello, Noire. I do hope I have not woken you from your well-deserved rest?"

 _Eh? It looks like Histoire is jumping on the "hello" bandwagon, too._

Noire's cheeks flushed red at the thought that she'd been caught slacking off. "Nononononooo! I'm perfectly awake!" As if to prove the point, she sprang from the bed, pacing to put some energy back into herself. "A-Anyway…it's strange that you would call me like this. Is there an issue that needs the attention of a goddess?"

"f(^_^;) Yes, in a manner of speaking. I am calling an emergency summit meeting to convene at Planeptune's Basilicom in about an hour."

" _Wh-WHAT?!_ In an _hour?!_ I…I have so much planned to do already! I'm going to have to cancel _everything!_ "

"((´∀`;)) I am sorry, Noire. I do apologize for the short notice, but this is a matter that has occurred very suddenly. To be frank, I find myself at a loss as to what to do."

Noire paused, taking in a deep breath to steady herself after her outburst. _Histoire_ had run into something she couldn't figure out? How was that even possible? "Okay. I'll see you in an hour, then."

"ヾ(´▽｀;)ゝ Thank you, Noire. I will explain everything once everyone has arrived."

 _Beep._

The goddess simply stood there for a moment, staring at her phone in silence. She would need to be making quite a lot of calls in the next few minutes. So why wasn't she already jumping to it? Time was a resource even more limited than share energy, was it not?

She lifted her head, squinting when her eyes came across the blinding sight of the sun peeking its way through the window of her room. She stepped over to the window, briefly considering if she should open it, but that was likely a poor idea. It was still early enough that the chill of dawn had yet to fade, the brownish grass outside coated in dew.

The air within Lastation tended to have an acrid aroma at this time of day, the result of Avenir's gross disregard for their homeland's environment. The cleanup process would be very long indeed, but Noire had already seen to doing something about the dozens of old-fashioned factories dotting Lastation's horizon with their black plumes of smoke. Eventually, Lastation would be making its next great leap forward, and this hectic, polluted era would become just another chapter in the nation's storied past. Another morning was dawning over Gamindustri – no doubt there would be a hundred thousand more just like this.

 _If I'm going to live forever…why am I always in such a rush?_

The CPU shook her head to clear it of unwanted thoughts. _I don't have time for this. I have a lot of preparations to make. There's no telling what Histoire has for us._

Noire let out a heavy sigh that had been building up as she began to thumb through her contacts list. At the very least, the summit meeting was sure to be a change of pace.


	3. Enter the Nep

Neptune stretched and yawned as the familiar muffled sounds of the city outside greeted her ears. The gloriously advanced Planeptune never slept, after all, and this morning would be just as busy and productive as any other. Neptune glanced about the room while she rubbed her eyes, forcing away the last vestiges of the restful night that had just passed. The color purple dominated the space, which was filled to the brim with all the imagery and knickknacks that one would expect in a bedroom shared by two young sisters. Yet, there were unusual bits and pieces that clearly stood out: a giant high-definition television sat upon a stand stacked with game consoles new and old; a cabinet on one wall had several shelves packed with a variety of game-related action figures, toys, sculptures, and more; a corner of the room was devoted to various disassembled computer and machine parts, which had become part of Nepgear's newest hobby…

As Neptune's thoughts turned to her sister, her gaze moved to the bed adjacent to her own – it was empty, the lilac blankets neatly tucked in. A slight smile formed upon Neptune's face. _Oh, Nepgear, you busybody, you._

"ヽ(≧Д≦)ノ _NEPTUNE!_ " screamed a familiar voice from somewhere outside the room. " _How many times must I do this before you learn to wake up on time?!_ "

Oh. Eheh. Histoire had been calling for Neptune to get up for at least a few minutes now, hadn't she? For such a tiny girl, Histy sure had a powerful voice. New energy spurred on by the horrifying thought of receiving yet another lecture flowed through the CPU of Planeptune, and she jumped from the bed to go through her morning routine in record time. Never before had such a refreshing shower ever been had so quickly.

Now donning one of her trademark jersey dresses, Neptune raced down the stairs two at a time toward the parliament room. Upon approaching the bottom, she made a long hop to the floor and struck a dramatic pose. "Ta-da! Good morning, my adoring little sister!"

Silence was all that greeted her as her voice reverberated through the meeting area, mostly empty aside from the large conference table in the center. She let out a nervous laugh as she realized that her sister was nowhere to be found.

Then, the quiet was punctuated by a disappointed sigh. "(-_-;) Nepgear is currently attending school. You were not awake to see her off, I can only assume." Histoire, the ever-present, ever-knowledgeable fairy who had become a sort of de facto advisor for the CPUs of Gamindustri, was there in the middle of the room, riding upon the massive flying tome that recorded the history of the world. She was wearing the same attire that she always appeared in – a blue and turquoise dress with voluminous sleeves and fashionably high-tech accents. How did it stay so clean, anyway?

"Eheh…I…kind of…maybe…no."

"( ˘_˘)┌ Ah. I see." Another sigh. "Fortunately for you, a matter even more important than your sister's first day of school has come to my attention."

"Wow. That must be _super_ important, then. Like, code red alert, right?"

"Yes. I will explain more when the others arrive."

Neptune raised a brow. "'The others?' You mean…"

Histoire nodded. "The other CPUs, of course. Unless you object to this?"

Neptune performed the opposite gesture, shaking her head vehemently. "No, I'm perfectly a-okay with them coming over. But…well, you could have told me about this first instead of making it a surprise party." It felt strange for her to think about, but she was the ruler of a nation – and the "others" were technically rivals who competed for power and shares, even if she was good friends with them all nowadays.

Histoire's expression clouded. " (´-｀╮) Given the importance of this issue, I did not want to take any more time than necessary. If I had waited until you woke up just now, it would be hours until the others would be prepared to attend an emergency meeting."

Neptune gave a stilted chuckle. "I require at least eight hours of beauty sleep every night. I'm a growing girl, after all."

"Nepgear is also a growing girl."

"Histy!" whined Neptune. "Stop being such a bully! So what if I slept in a little late? The world's not gonna end without me!"

"(⊡ _ ⊡) Actually, it is entirely possible for exactly that scenario to occur, and I will be _very_ disappointed in you if and when it does."

Now Neptune pouted, realizing once again how easy it was for Histoire to scold her. "So why are we holding the meeting here instead of Celestia, oh wise one?"

"As I said, you were the only CPU not awake at the time that I called for this meeting. So, while you were busy snoring and drooling on your pillow, the others were making their way here."

Neptune gave a defeated sigh. "Yes, yes, I'm a lazy girl. Lazy to the core, I am. One hundred percent pure slouch."

Histoire's grim expression turned into a subtle grin. "(^_^) I'm glad we are in agreement."

"Histy!"

* * *

It did not take much longer for the other CPUs to arrive, but to Neptune, it could have easily been _hours_. They filtered into the room together through the door that led from the main area of the Basilicom. The trio was a striking sight, and it would be easy for them to stand out from any crowd. Noire, the proud and headstrong CPU of Lastation, was wearing her favorite gothic-inspired outfit, complete with a daring skirt more than short enough to turn a few heads. Vert, the CPU of Leanbox, donned an elegant and expensive dress that matched her demeanor quite well. Meanwhile, Blanc, the CPU of Lowee, wore an attire not unlike that of a priestess, fitted with furs to protect against the bitter cold of her homeland. Together along with Neptune, this eclectic group was responsible for the safety and well-being of Gamindustri's faithful citizens, even as they often butted heads over matters both serious and trivial in a manner reminiscent of children at a playground.

"(。･o･｡) Greetings, Lady Black Heart, Lady Green Heart, Lady White Heart," spoke Histoire as they approached. "Please, have a seat."

"What's so important that you had to call us to Planeptune's Basilicom on such short notice?" were the first words from Noire's mouth as the goddesses took their seats at the parliament table. "I have my own affairs to attend to, you know."

"I agree," said Vert. "I had to cancel an event that I'd scheduled a week in advance because of this meeting." She breathed out a sad little sigh. "My guild members are sure to be disappointed."

"This must be important," Blanc added in her quiet voice. "I just wish we had been told about this earlier."

Histoire sighed at the CPUs' obvious discontent. "（●´･△･｀）I must give my sincerest apologies. I was not given any advance warning about this issue, myself."

"So?" asked Noire. "What's the trouble?"

The fairy's words gained a dramatic flair as she spoke, "╰[ ⁰o⁰ ]╯ I have called you to this meeting to discuss a matter of grave importance, one that may very well have far-reaching consequences across more than just Gamindustri. In fact, the source of this disturbance comes from a world that is not our own **."**

Neptune practically jumped out of her seat. " _Nepu!_ Are we being invaded by aliens?!"

"(⊡ _ ⊡ # ) Please do not interrupt me, Neptune," said Histoire, giving the eager girl an annoyed look before resuming her briefing. "Last night, I happened to have a strange dream." She hesitated before adding, "Well, perhaps 'dream' is not the right word."

"What do you mean?" asked Vert. "Like a…vision?"

"(v_v) I believe so. Within this vision, I became aware of a voice that seemed to be calling for help. Most disturbingly, it was my own voice, yet I was not the one speaking. It told of a world in dire need, one that is threatened with impending doom."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," said Neptune. "Histy has to _sleep_?" She let out a childish giggle. "I can just picture little Histy curled up in that big ol' book, using the pages like blankets. Hah!"

"( ⊡ _ ⊡ ╬ ) _Neptune_."

The girl's mirth instantly faded. "Shutting up now."

Noire decided to add her own comment. "'Impending doom?' What kind of impending doom are we talking about?"

Histoire's expression grew puzzled as she thought over the question. "(눈_눈) I am not sure. The message was cryptic at best, yet its urgency was quite clear."

"Are you sure that it wasn't just a strange dream?" asked Noire.

Histoire gave a sigh. "(v.v') Yes. I am quite sure that it was more than just a dream. If I had to guess, I would say that this is a cry for aid from a version of myself who lives in another dimension."

"Another…dimension?" said Blanc. "You mean that there are other worlds which have copies of us all?"

"Yes…I think."

"You 'think?'"

"Cool!" exclaimed Neptune. "I want to meet myself! We'd be the best friends _ever!_ "

To that, Blanc replied, "Tch. I don't want to imagine a world with two Neptunes. One is already enough of a headache."

Histoire paused as she formulated her next words. "(´ ˙-˙ `) As you may be aware, several of the brave warriors who aided you in the battle against Arfoire were from another dimension. Given that these people did not exist in our own world until they traveled here, it is safe to assume that there are indeed worlds _not_ like our own. But, at the same time, it is possible that exact copies, or very similar copies, also exist, as Lady White Heart suggested."

"What happened to those guys, anyway?" asked Neptune. "I kinda miss them."

"As far as I am aware, they have returned to their own world…or perhaps they traveled to another world in need of aid, such as the one I have received this message from."

"And how do they do this, er, dimension hopping?" Noire inquired.

Again, Histoire hesitated before giving her answer. "I am not sure. However, since there is precedent, it must be possible. Perhaps if I search the tome, I can find a record of how to perform such a task."

"How long will that take?" asked Blanc. "From the way that you called us here, I imagine that this requires immediate action."

"(v_v) Hmm…" Histoire raised a finger to her lips as she thought it over. "Three days."

Noire nearly jumped out of her seat as her famously sharp tongue made itself known. "Three days?! Why didn't you wait until _then_ to call the meeting?"

Vert chuckled softly at this outburst. "There is no need to get your striped panties in a twist, Noire. I believe that I may have the solution."

"(` o . o') Oh?" Histoire seemed surprised. "Please, share any knowledge that you may have."

Meanwhile, Noire appeared to be dumbfounded as she muttered, "How did she know that I'm wearing striped…?" Unconsciously, she crossed her legs a little tighter as a red glow formed on her cheeks.

Vert proceeded to enlighten the assembly by explaining how her faithful assistant, Ran-Ran, had once told her about the mythical origins of the pig-faced race. According to legend, they were created to give worlds assistance in times of need, and they used their strange powers to go where they were needed most.

"(◎ܫ◎) Interesting," breathed Histoire. "I am not sure how much of that is based in fact, but it sounds promising. Would it be amiss if I asked you to call your assistant here?"

"Not at all," said Vert with a warm smile. She pulled a phone out from some unseen place within her dress (which did not have pockets) and made a brief call. After hanging up, she explained, "Ran-Ran will be arriving shortly. _Very_ shortly, according to her."

"( =_=)/ It will no doubt take some time, even with the fastest ship available. Until then, I would like to discuss—"

Histoire was interrupted when a brilliant flash exploded through the room, temporarily blinding all within. When the participants of the conference managed to open their eyes, they saw a new figure standing before them.

"(´・ω・｀) Ran-Ran has arrived."

"( _0 . 0_ ) That was…quicker than expected," understated Histoire.

"(´・ω・｀) What do you require of Ran-Ran? Ran-Ran was busy watching her favorite show."

And with that, Histoire hastily explained to Ran-Ran all that she had told to the CPUs during the meeting.

"(´・ω・｀) Ran-Ran sees. And Ran-Ran knows."

"Knows wha—"

An alien energy electrified the air as a hole was _ripped_ into the space beside Ran-Ran. Within, the only thing visible was an ominous black void that seemed to go on forever.

"Is that a…portal?" Vert asked with a raised brow.

"∑('0'＠) It would seem so," said Histoire. "And it is releasing energy very similar to what I have been sensing since that dream." She turned to Ran-Ran. "How is it that I have no knowledge of these powers that you seem to possess?"

"(´・ω・｀) Ran-Ran knows much, and tells some."

"(￣ω￣) Ah, but I have many questions for you, pig-faced one."

"(´・ω・｀) Ran-Ran does not wish to be interrogated by a book. Bye-bye."

"Wait—"

Again, the room was filled with blinding light, and, just like that, Ran-Ran was gone.

"What a strange character," remarked Blanc. "I would like to write about one of her kind. That would be an interesting experience."

Vert seemed just as bewildered as everyone else by this series of events. "Ran-Ran has been my assistant for quite some time, but even I was unaware of her…abilities. This would certainly explain how she is such an efficient worker."

Histoire made a frustrated sigh. "(;¬_¬) Well, the portal still remains, at least."

"How convenient," mumbled Noire. Then, she spoke loudly enough for the others to hear. "Wait – you don't expect _us_ to go through that creepy black hole of evil doom, right? _Right?_ "

"Well…"

"I was getting tired of all of this exposition, anyways," said Neptune. "I'm ready for some action! You know – the walky-walky, not the talky-talky."

"The plot needs to proceed in a logical fashion, Neptune," chided Blanc. "It would be silly if we simply jumped straight into the next scene without explanation."

A sly smile crept upon Noire's lips. "And you would know this, yes?"

Blanc's brow furrowed threateningly. "What are you implying?"

"Oh, just that you're intimately familiar with the workings of a fan fiction, that's all. Nothing more."

Somehow, Blanc's visage managed to grow even more frightening, but her voice remained calm. "Your derisive tone indicates just how plebian you truly are. A fan fiction is a work of art, a labor of love, just like any other masterpiece."

Noire gave a bratty laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "'Masterpiece?' Oh, please. What a joke."

Blanc rose from her seat and slammed her tiny fists on the table with surprising strength, causing the others to flinch. "I'll show _you_ a joke, you uncultured bi—"

"( ;»д«) Ladies, please!" pleaded Histoire, which caused Blanc to slowly lower back to her seat. "For once, I agree with Neptune – we must act quickly."

Vert decided to advance the story by adding some meaningful discussion to the conversation. "If we go through this portal, will we be able to return? We are needed here, after all."

"(；´･Д･) Sadly, I am unsure," replied Histoire. "What I do know is that you four are the best candidates to handle a threat of this magnitude, whatever it may be. However, I cannot force you to help if you do not wish to. The choice is up to you."

Noire asked, "What's so important about helping another dimension, anyway? It can't affect our world, can it? I mean, there could be hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions or billions of other worlds, and we don't know a thing about them."

"( ³⌓³) Ah, but there lies the problem. What happens in another world can indeed affect our own, even if we have no knowledge of it. Consider if Arfoire had defeated the four of you in this world and successfully destroyed it. What if she learned to enter other dimensions and destroy them, as well?"

Noire nodded thoughtfully. "I…see what you mean. So we can't simply ensure the safety of one world – we must protect all of them. But how can we watch over so many places at once?"

"Again, I am not sure. But this is the first time I have ever received a message from another world like this. I believe that it is worth investigating, if you are willing. It is a start, at least."

Once again, Neptune seemed prepared to leap from her chair as she kicked her feet with excitement. "Lemme at 'em, Histy! I'm ready for anything! Even interdimensional catastrophe!"

Vert took a moment to think before voicing her agreement. "I am willing to help, as long as my assistants are notified of my absence. I do not wish Leanbox to fall into disarray while I am gone."

Histoire nodded. "( •﹏•) Of course. I will notify all four of the nations about your mission as soon as the meeting is ended, if you agree to it."

"Very well, then. I will join Neptune in this quest. It should be a fun experience, I hope."

"I will also join," said Blanc. "I am very interested to see what lies beyond that portal. And…I could use a break from Rom and Ram. Financier will simply have to handle them for a little while longer than usual."

"Excellent." Histoire turned to the only one who had yet to agree. "And what of you, Noire?"

"I don't know…"

"Come on, Noire!" encouraged Neptune. "We'll get to meet ourselves and stuff! It'll be _radical!_ "

Noire gave a nervous smile. "I suppose it _would_ be interesting, and it would look bad if I was the only one who didn't go…" She nodded. "Very well, I will join, too."

Histoire beamed, glad that her pleas had not fallen on deaf ears. "o(*^▽^*)o Thank you. I wish the four of you the best of luck. I regret that I am unable to provide more information, but I will do my best to ensure your safe return."

* * *

Several hours later, having tied up any loose ends in their respective nations, the goddesses now stood before the portal. It was just large enough for one person to fit at a time, looming like an evil omen above the floor.

"So, who among us is going first?" asked Vert.

"Geronimo!" shouted Neptune, leaping through the portal with her knees tucked to her chest as if jumping from a diving board.

Vert found herself chuckling. "Well, that answers that. I suppose I shall go next. See you on the other side, as they say." Vert stepped through with confidence, disappearing into the inky darkness.

Blanc and Noire continued to gaze at the unnatural hole for some time. "Er…you go next," suggested Noire.

"Oh? Is your bravado failing you?" Blanc mocked with a smirk.

"N-No! I just, er, want to make sure that all of us go through."

"Sure." Without further ado, Blanc walked forward and vanished.

Noire stared for several moments longer, attempting to discern anything that could be waiting for her beyond. "It'll be fine, Noire. You're supposed to be the one who sets the example. Stop being such a baby. And…er…stop talking to yourself. It's weird." Noire sighed huffily. "Well…here goes nothing."

As the last goddess disappeared from the world, Histoire wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake. "(°m°;) I must have faith in her. It is too late to turn back now."


	4. His First Name is Professor

"Yeowch!"

"Oof!"

"Ouch…"

"Eek!"

A mind-bending moment passed as each goddess left one dimension and entered another. The next moment, they were all piled into a heap upon the ground.

"Owwww…" cried Neptune. "You didn't all have to land on top of me! Oh, my poor spleen…"

"Eheheh. At least I had something to cushion the fall," remarked Vert.

"That was…painful," spoke Blanc as she grimaced.

"Oh, what a bunch of babies," said Noire, who was attempting to pick herself up from the tangle of limbs.

"You didn't have three hundred pounds of goddess land on your back!" Neptune whined.

"I wonder…where could this place be?" Vert asked as she managed to rise to her feet, her dress somehow immaculate despite having been pressed into the grass only moments prior. The portal behind them had mysteriously vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving behind only the faintest tinge of static in the air.

"Hm. It seems that we are within a forest," was Blanc's astute deduction. "How quaint."

"Oh, right! This is the low level dungeon where we have our combat tutorial!" Neptune seemed to have recovered rather quickly.

"We're not in a video game this time, Neptune," explained Blanc. "We don't have any credits or experience to grind. In fact, our abilities are completely limited by what the author dictates."

"Aw! How lame! I wanted to beat up some dogoos!" Neptune turned her head to the sky, which was as bright and sunny as its equivalent in their previous world. "Hey, writer! Gimme some enemies to beat up!"

"Now, now, Neptune. You can't just force the author to do what you want. After all, even your very existence is decided by—"

At that instant, a dogoo appeared from behind a tree, its wobbling blue body at odds with its canine features – the creation of a madman, no doubt. "Duroooo…" it moaned in a zombie-like fashion.

"Hmph," snorted Blanc, more than a little incredulous. "I'm sure that was just a coincidence."

"Oh, come on! Just one dogoo?" Neptune complained. "I'm gonna need more than that to reach level two!"

"Neptune, as I just explained, we have no levels to—"

"Duroooo…" two more dogoos moaned in unison from behind.

Blanc's nose furrowed as she gained a level in disbelief. "Okay, now this is just getting silly."

Vert laughed at this turn of events. "Ah, but writer, we have no weapons with which to battle the monsters. You would not have us ladies fight unarmed, would you?"

"Not you, too, Vert," Blanc griped.

"Hiyah!" yelled Neptune as she leaped toward the dogoo in front of her, a wooden katana clutched tightly in her hands. The seemingly weak blade proved to be deadly as it cleaved straight down the middle of the creature's jelly-like body, splitting it into two. " _Nepu!_ A one-hit KO!"

"Where could she have possibly gotten that?!" Blanc was likely getting close to snapping by this point.

"I am, no thanks to you!"

A dogoo leapt straight for Blanc, its murderous intent quite clear.

"Ack! You will _die_ , cretinous canine!"

Soon enough, the battle of the ages was over. Total experience earned: zero.

Blanc fumed as she gazed at the weapons in the other goddesses' hands, her faith in the fourth wall at an all-time low. "This was unbelievably stupid."

Vert smiled and spoke, "Maybe if you had been nicer, the author would've been kind enough to provide you with a weapon of your own – or perhaps even another kind of gift."

"Are you insinuating something?"

Vert's smiled broadened. "Hmmhmm. You said it yourself – the author has absolute control over us…including, say, our physiques?"

Blanc's glare intensified even further. "That's _enough_ out of you, Thunder Ti—"

"That was awesome!" shouted Neptune, her enthusiasm managing to defuse the situation. "But it's not as fun in text form, I think. And we didn't even get any loot!"

Vert sighed. "Unfortunately, I must agree. MUDs were never my favorite genre of game, anyway."

"Well, now that _that's_ over with…" Noire spoke, sheathing her rapier, "I think we should explore our surroundings, get our bearings, and figure out exactly what we're supposed to be doing here."

"Yeah," agreed Neptune. "This place doesn't seem very…impending doomy."

" _CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!_ "

Suddenly, a massive explosion filled the air, knocking the party to the ground and filling the sky with an orange glow. The sound was deafening, its raw power making it impossible to do anything but cling on for dear life for several long, terrifying seconds.

" _You should learn to keep your stupid mouth shut, Neptune!_ " yelled Blanc, her ears ringing painfully.

As the goddesses picked themselves up from the ground again, they saw that the once tranquil forest around them now consisted largely of flattened and dead trees, toppled by the force of the explosion. A thick plume of smoke rose in the horizon, presumably from the source of the destruction.

"That almost seemed like…a _meteor_?" breathed Vert. "How strange."

"Whatever it was, it can't be good," said Noire. "We're lucky that it didn't land closer to us."

"Well, _duh_ , we have plot armor," Neptune reminded them. "We're basically invincible, because we're main characters!"

An uneasy expression came over Blanc's face. "Did anyone else just get an odd feeling in the pit of their stomach?"

"Something not agree with you, Blanc?" Noire questioned with the tiniest of smirks.

The CPU of Lowee hesitated for a moment before concluding, "Nevermind. It's nothing."

"Well, maybe we should go towards that smoke," suggested Noire. "We're bound to find whatever caused this explosion."

"That sounds good to me," Vert said.

"And me!" chimed in Neptune.

Blanc made a small nod. "I suppose I must agree as well."

And so the four of them trudged through the formerly peaceful woods, struggling to make their way across the numerous felled trees and upturned roots in the path. Soon enough, they reached the base of the smoke and found a small figure lying in the center of a slightly less small crater. The heat radiating from the landing site should've been enough to set the CPUs' clothing on fire, but somehow they were completely unscathed.

"Er…what _is_ that?" Noire wondered aloud.

"It sounds as if it's trying to say something," said Vert.

"Chu…chu…chuuuuuu…" the creature moaned.

"Chu?" Neptune echoed in imitation. "Pika…chu?"

"Chu…chu… _chuuuuuuuuuuuuu_ …"

Blanc sighed, clearly annoyed. "This is getting us nowhere."

"Chu!" The creature suddenly jumped up, then shook itself off. It appeared to be a humanoid rodent of some kind, standing only a few feet tall on its stubby legs. "Chu! Who are you, chu? Wait…CHU!" It leapt back in what was surely astonishment. "I must have died and gone to heaven, chu!"

Vert gave her typical chuckle. "Ah. I know I am quite beautiful, yes."

"You're not supposed to be here, chu!" the rat creature spoke in its squeaky voice. "Warechu doesn't know how to feel about this, chu!"

Neptune and Noire exchanged a glance. "Er…" began Neptune.

"Yeah," finished Noire. She turned to the rodent, which was presumably called Warechu. "Would you mind telling us how you came crashing out of the sky?"

Warechu pouted as he explained, "Warechu's boss tossed him out of the sky, chu! She was very displeased with Warechu, chu!"

The two goddesses exchanged a second glance. "And would your boss happen to be Arfoire?"

"Oh, but of course, chu. Arfoire is a bad boss, chu. No benefits or dental, chu."

"That still doesn't explain how you survived the fall."

Warechu's disposition immediately improved as he straightened his back with pride. "Warechu is very strong, chu. Warechu used to be able to squash entire buildings, chu." His shoulders slumped back downward. "But then you stopped Warechu, chu, and he became small again, chu."

"Stopped you?"

"You don't remember, chu?" The little monster gave the quartet a questioning look. "Oh, those were good times, chu. Back then, I used to be able to see my sweet angel Compa, chu."

"Compa?!" exclaimed Neptune. "Where is Compa? I must visit her and taste her alternate dimension pudding! Only then can I truly see if it is the best pudding across all worlds!"

"Alternate dimension, chu? Warechu is confused, chu. Compa works at Planeptune Hospital, chu. Warechu tried to work at Planeptune Hospital, chu, but they refused him, chu." He gave a dramatic sigh. "Oh, my sweet angel Compa, chu."

"Planeptune Hospital, huh?" said Noire. "Thanks for the tip. Now which way would it be to Planeptune?"

"Warechu does not know, chu. Warechu just fell from the sky, chu."

"Eheh. Fair enough."

"What will you do now?" inquired Blanc.

"Warechu is not sure, chu. Warechu may just sit here and cry, chu."

"Oh, come on!" Neptune blurted. "That's no way to talk! Think about happy things, like, uh, video games! And pudding!"

"Would you like to come with us?" offered Vert. "We certainly could use a guide, seeing as we are unfamiliar with the area."

"Warechu cannot aid you, chu. Warechu would lose too much of his little remaining pride by helping his former enemies, chu."

"Hm." Vert made a little shrug with her shoulders. "Suit yourself."

The party of goddesses decided to leave the rodent man alone to sulk in his personal crater. They wandered for a while, attempting to find their way through the destroyed forest, but the damage caused by the living meteor made it difficult to stumble upon any kind of path.

"Uhg, I swear we're walking in circles!" whined Noire. "And my feet are already starting to hurt..."

"I agree," said Blanc. "It is clear that we are lost. We should come up with a plan."

"Well, do any of us _have_ a plan?" Noire asked.

After a brief silence, it was none other than Neptune who had the solution. "Well, what if we…threw a stick and went to where it pointed?!"

Noire barely resisted the urge to smack her own forehead. "Neptune, it may have worked that one time, but I don't—"

Before she could finish, Neptune had already tossed a branch onto the ground. "It looks like we should go…that-a-way!"

"Hmph. It's not as if I had a better idea, anyway," conceded Blanc. The rest of the party gave a similar sentiment.

After several minutes of travelling "that-a-way," the trees began to thin out. Soon enough, they reached the edge of the forest, and a sprawling, verdant plain was revealed before them.

Noire placed a hand over her eyes to block the glaring sun. "I think I can see a road from here."

"Let us go, comrades!" cried Neptune, taking the lead. "Onward, to glory!"

Vert sighed at the youthful goddess' behavior. "Where _does_ she get her energy?"

* * *

Hours later, the party had traveled far and wide, and yet still the road proved to be endless. Slowly, the sun inched toward the horizon, a vivid painting of reds and oranges stretching across the sky. The air grew rife with the sounds of chirping crickets and whining cicadas. Despite the length of their journey, they had not encountered a single soul.

"So…tired. Feet…destroyed." Even Neptune's stamina was beginning to flag.

"I'm about ready to stop," agreed Blanc.

"Hold on," said Noire, squinting into the distance. "There's a town up ahead."

"Boy – Nowa sure does eat her carrots," commented Neptune. When only silence followed this remark, she added, "Wow. Noire must be _really_ tired."

"Shut up, Neptune," replied the one in question. "I'm not in the mood for your childish antics right now."

Neptune froze as a thought dawned upon her. "Wait – so does that mean you're in the mood for my childish antics _sometimes?_ "

Noire practically growled. "No, that's not what I meant!"

"Uh-oh. Kitty's upset."

"This kitty's got claws, too!" Then, Noire caught herself. "I mean, er…I'm not a kitty, alright!" She pressed a hand to her face. "How do I always manage to fall right into it…"

Neptune gave a cheerful giggle. "I think a pair of cat ears would suit you juuuuuust fine, Nowa."

Vert decided to join in Neptune's mirth. "Ah, yes. It takes very little imagination to see Noire as a prickly catgirl, does it not?"

Noire let out a whiny groan, her face flushing with the expected embarrassment. "Stop it already!"

They begrudgingly meandered their way into town, their feet dragging heavily. As the sun dipped below the horizon, a few last waning rays being thrown across the treetops far to the west, the first of the lights lining the village flickered to life. Several of them remained dim, leaving behind a patchwork of shadows – a closer inspection would reveal that their bulbs had been shattered, the glass littering the ground beneath.

The dirt road beneath the CPUs transitioned into one of worn, broken bricks as they continued onward, the country homes dotting the outskirts of town eventually melding with the packed cul-de-sacs further in. It didn't take long before the path forked off into several, forming a winding maze of neighborhoods that had likely never been graced by the guidance of a city planner – buildings squeezed side-by-side with hardly an inch to breathe, with doors leading directly out to curvy streets or dark, dingy alleyways. The town's constructions leered down upon the goddesses as they made their way ever further inward to the heart of the labyrinth.

"My…" began Vert, her voice kept low. "I must admit that this place almost seems as if it would belong within Leanbox, but it is not any one that I recognize."

"Do most towns in Leanbox feel like this?" Blanc asked, eyeing a house with broken, boarded-up windows that lacked the tell-tale glow of light from within. Vines snaked down the faded white walls to join a mesh of foliage that made up the residence's tiny back yard.

"Er…you mean like a ghost town?" Noire offered.

"Ooooooh…spooky," Neptune uttered in a hushed tone.

A moment passed as a thoughtful expression played upon Blanc's face. "Hm. That is one way to put it."

Soon enough, they stumbled upon a place that could generously be described as the town square. A chilly wind whistled across the clearing, rustling the strands of grass that poked through the cracks in the ground. In the center was an old fountain hewn from gray stone, but no water could be seen gushing from it. The benches strewn about consisted almost entirely of rotted wood, and the buildings crowding the edge of the square were in a shape akin to furniture left in the rain. A single street lamp overhead cast its sickly yellow illumination – it occasionally flickered with an ominous buzz.

"Does anyone else find it unsettling that we have not seen or heard a single other person besides Warechu since we arrived here?" asked Vert.

"Yeah…" said Noire, her eyes darting about. "It's like this whole world is… _empty_."

Blanc gave a nod. "So quiet, but it is hard not to feel like we're being watched."

The sounds of a suppressed yawn suddenly came from Neptune, who raised a hand to cover her mouth instead of giving a dramatic stretch as she normally did. No comment escaped her lips as her hand lowered.

"Perhaps we can find an inn to stay for the night?" Vert suggested, noting the lack of focus in Neptune's eyes.

Noire placed a hand upon her hip before suddenly deciding against the gesture. She took another look around the clearing, drinking in the sight of the dilapidated homes and storefronts and feeling a shiver go up her spine as another gust of wind swept through with a shrill cry. Her attention was drawn to the fountain that adorned the center of the square – no longer functional, it was now covered in muck and partially filled with dirty rainwater. She stepped closer to it, noting the metal medallion that was embedded into a raised slab on the fountain's brim. A town crest, maybe? The text was worn away by age, but there was one name that she could make out. "Say, Vert – have you ever heard of Harbor Oak?"

The buzzing overhead seemed to suddenly gain a harsh edge. Then, with a loud _POP_ and a tinkling of glass, the square was plunged into darkness.

" _Nepu!_ "

Noire felt someone grab onto her shoulders, causing her to stumble forward and scrape her legs on the edge of the fountain. It was only through the quickest of reflexes that she managed to halt her fall by grabbing the fountain's spire, leaving her stretched in an awkward pose. Several moments passed as her eyes adjusted to the poor lighting. She blinked when she realized that her face was a mere inch away from the unholy concoction that had settled within the fountain.

"Neptune."

The Neptune in question gave a nervous laugh. "Ahahahah. Sorry about that, Nowa. I guess you were the first thing I jumped for when I got a fright, huh?"

"Neptune. Please let go of me."

"Aww. Can't you show some love for once, Nowa?"

"I'm serious. Let go of me."

"Oh, fine. Miss Perfect Lady Black Heart never fails in knowing how to be a spoilsport."

When Noire felt the weight slide from her back, it took a few moments for her to push herself back to an upright posture. She let out a breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding – then immediately regretted it when the smell of the fountain washed over her. Something told her that she'd just dodged a bullet. It was in the next moment that she realized her fingers hadn't come out completely unscathed, being coated in some kind of slimy substance that reminded her of that one time she'd picked up a frog. Sighing, she brushed her hands together in an attempt to get the worst of it off.

"So…about that inn…"

She could just barely make out the others silently nodding in the dark.

* * *

It did not take long to find a place to stay. The dilapidated sign out in front was supposed to say "The Harbor Oak Hotel," but instead it seemed to spell out "He Arbor Ak Hot." The interior was respectable enough, although it appeared to be rather dusty inside, as if no one had bothered to clean in years. At the front desk sat a crusty old man in an equally crusty attire, his hair having long since faded away.

"Hello?" began Noire's attempt at a greeting. "We're here to rent a room for the night."

The man must have been asleep, as he suddenly turned and tossed for a moment before lifting his head to view the guests. His eyes widened in surprise, and he raised his hands to rub his face as he stood up from his seat. "My, my, my. What a strange time for strange visitors. Oh, but where are me manners? I'm Mr. Oak, and this is the Harbor Oak Hotel."

"Wait – does that mean your first name is… _Harbor?!_ " said Neptune.

The man laughed with a series of wheezes that made one wonder how much longer it would be before he kicked the bucket. "Oh, heavens, no, silly child. Harbor Oak is the name of the town ye now stand within. O' course, it's not much o' a harbor these days, what with business being so slow since the Conquest rolled through Leanbox."

"'The Conquest?'" Noire replied.

"Eh?" Mr. Oak appeared quite shocked. "Surely ye have heard of it by that name. It may not be the _official_ name, but it's far more appropriate, says I."

"And what is the official name?"

"My, my, so many questions. Did ye all get knocks on yer pretty heads? Ah, well, it's probably for the better. Ahem." The man's toothless grin faded. "So, looking for a room, are ye? As in, singular? For the four of ye?"

"Actually, I would prefer to have a room to myself," said Blanc. "It would be nice to have some quiet for a while."

"I would also prefer my own room," Vert agreed. She pressed her fingers together in a most devious manner as she added, "After all, I am sure these two lovebirds would appreciate the privacy."

"L-L-Lovebirds?!" stammered Noire, a blush instantly crossing her cheeks.

Sensing an opportunity to humiliate her best friend and/or worst enemy once again, Neptune hooked an arm around Noire's own and leaned against her lovingly. "Ah, but I am just _dying_ to have you to myself, Nowa."

Noire practically froze, for once not quite sure how to salvage the situation (and her pride). If she could melt, she most likely would have.

Mr. Oak let out a laugh, being only slightly less wheezy than before. "Alrighty, then – two single beds for the fair ladies, and one double bed for the fair young lovers. That'll be, hmm…one hundred seventy-five credits for the night."

Vert started for whatever hiding place she kept her phone in, but Blanc interrupted by reaching out a hand and shaking her head.

The goddess of Leanbox raised a brow as Blanc retrieved a wad of real paper credits and handed them to Mr. Oak. "Oh? For some reason, I never imagined that Blanc carried a wallet around with her."

Noire clearly wanted to speak out, but she seemed too flabbergasted to utter even the simplest of sentences. "I…what…no…"

Before she knew it, they were being guided down the hallway, Neptune still in tow, and was soon alone in a small room with the true source of her disgrace.

" _Neptuuuuuune!_ " Her rage began to boil over at last now that they were out of sight from the others. "Why did you…I can't believe…" She wanted to yell, and kick, and scream, but instead she simply choked as tears came to her eyes.

"Aw, what's wrong, Nowa? I thought we had something special."

Noire could do little more than groan, her hands clenched so tightly into fists that her nails were nearly drawing blood. "You're the worst, Neptune."

The purple-haired girl feigned astonishment. " _Whaaaaaat?!_ You're saying that you don't even have the smallest, teensiest, tiniest bit of love for yours truly? I. Am. _Shocked_."

"No! None at all whatsoever!"

"Aw. You're going to make me cry, Noire."

"Y-You already made _me_ cry!" Again, Noire let out a moan of pure hatred as she struggled to compose herself. "Why do you always do these things to me?!"

Neptune laughed a bit uncomfortably. Her friend's reaction had been harsher than expected. "We were just having a little fun, silly."

"I didn't ask to be the butt of your jokes, Neptune!"

"Oh, but you set yourself up so well that I just can't resist." Neptune's grin grew sly as she added, "Much like your devilishly good looks."

Noire managed a long sigh, sounding much like a deflating tire. "I suppose you're right," she mumbled, the words barely audible.

"Huh? What was that, Noire?"

"Nothing, nothing. Nothing at all."

"If you say so." Neptune kicked off her shoes, plopped onto the queen-sized bed, and made a dramatic noise of fatigue. " _Phew!_ I don't think I could take another step. Rub my feet, would you, Nowa?"

"You're _really_ pushing me tonight, Neptune."

Noire was starting to sound rather dangerous. "Oh, fine. I suppose my poor, delicate toes will just have to suffer in agony."

"Oh, poor you."

A few moments later, just when Neptune had settled down, she felt something yank at the blankets beneath her. She peeked over the edge of the bed to see Noire lying there on top of the portion of the comforter she had stolen. "Um…Noire? What are you doing?"

"There is _no_ way that I'm sleeping in the same bed as you, Neptune. There's already enough bad fan fiction about _that_ to give me _nightmares_."

"So, um…you're sleeping on the floor?"

"Exactly."

"Alright. Suit yourself." Neptune made a satisfied "ahhhhhh" as she sank back into the bed. "It's reaaaaaally comfy, though, y'know."

"Nothing you say is going to convince me to come up there, so forget about it."

A passive-aggressive silence passed as Neptune hummed to herself, greatly enjoying the comfort of the bed after a long day of travel. Meanwhile, Noire was wishing she could be absolutely anywhere else at that very moment. The floor was hardly a welcoming place to rest, and it was rather dirty, too – not at all fitting for the CPU of Lastation, who was accustomed to silken sheets. Mere minutes had passed, and already the hardness of the surface was causing her back to ache in a most painful manner. She gave another sigh as she worked to remove her boots and set them aside, then attempted to find a slightly more charitable position on the floor. She failed miserably, and finally, she rose to her feet, defeated.

"Move over, Neptune," Noire spoke a little quietly.

" _Nepu!_ The great Noire has changed her mind?! I thought you just said that you would _never_."

The CPU of Lastation formed a retort in her head, then held her tongue as she decided that it simply wasn't worth expending the effort to argue. As she settled beneath the blankets, she noted that the bed was indeed cozy – the perfect solution for a weary wanderer. She couldn't even muster the energy to warn Neptune about trying anything risqué. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and allowed sleep to overcome her.

Then, just before Noire could slip away into whatever exotic realm of dreams lay deep within her mind, she heard Neptune say, "Mm…this reminds me of the good old days."

"The…'good old days?'"

"Yeah! Remember all that traveling we did together when we were fighting Arbore and her evil harem of monsters and businessmen?"

Noire allowed herself a shy smile. "Eheh. I suppose. Things have become a lot calmer since then."

"And boring." Neptune's tone became sing-song as she continued, "Dull, dull, dull, do-ing paper-work ever-y day."

"Work is its own reward, Neptune."

Neptune giggled briefly. "All work and no play makes Noire a dull girl."

"I can have fun when I want to. It's important to realize when to work and when to play, a lesson _you_ , of all people, could definitely benefit from."

"Yep – Noire, the one with _all_ of the friends. The friendliest friend that friendship has ever seen."

"I have lots of friends!" Noire exclaimed as her bedfellow managed to poke at yet another easy sore point.

A catty expression formed on Neptune's face. "Oh yeah? Like who?"

"Well, there's you, and, um…" She trailed off, realizing once again what her mortal enemy and only friend was hinting at. A loud sigh emanated from her as she attempted to deflect the conversation. "It's not important."

"What?! But it's very important! As your best friend in the entire multiverse of universes, I command you to make more friends."

Noire didn't reply for some time. When she did, the words were hard to hear in more ways than one. "Maybe it would be better to simply say I have no friends, considering who's on the list."

"Oh, come on, Nowa—"

"It's _Noire!_ "

Neptune giggled again. "Jeez, you're so high-strung all the time, Noire. Take a chilly pill. Chillax for once!"

"How am I supposed to relax around you?!" After a moment, she added, "You always know just how to make me upset!"

An uncomfortable silence passed as Neptune wondered whether she had finally crossed a line somewhere. Then, uncharacteristically, she said, "Sorry, Noire. Like I said before, I just like to have fun, that's all."

"Y-You're sorry?" The words caught in Noire's throat.

"Yep. One hundred and ten percent pure apology."

Noire turned her head to look at her friend. "Neptune…" Her timid smile returned as their faces suddenly drew close together. Neptune's purple eyes were like big, sparkling amethysts, and her girlish face seemed more beautiful than ever. Noire leaned forward, their lips pressing together tenderly as they embra—


	5. Just a Violet

_Enjoy this day while it lasts – for when the sun falls, this world will know light no longer._

Noire awoke with a start, her chest heaving as breaths came with great difficulty. Her heart was pounding as fast as it could, and her face felt hot as fire as it no doubt blushed with the power of a thousand suns. She found it difficult to process the image before her as real, eyes darting about, her mind still struggling to cross the threshold into awareness.

A few moments of peace did much to calm her nerves. She sat up, giving a stretch and a yawn. Golden light met her sight through the curtain across from the bed – the birds chirping their songs outside heralded a new dawn upon the world. Noire had always been an early riser. Yet, she had rarely felt so refreshed. The shadows slowly being dismissed by sunlight, the stillness of the morning air, and even the chill that met her nose with each breath contributed to an almost meditative state. Normally, she would be jumping up to begin her daily routine, and her legs did indeed itch to get moving. Today, though…

Something nagged at her. The smile that had unconsciously formed on her face fell.

Noire looked to her side and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Neptune lying there, the sleeping goddess' snores filling the air.

Then, she remembered.

 _Neptune!_

That was what she wanted to scream, at least. Instead, she simply remained silent, eyes intently focused on this enigma beside her. Even when lost in the clutches of dreams, Neptune managed to make a racket. It was a wonder that Noire had been able to sleep at all. Indeed, it was a wonder that Noire found herself here now, the companion of a ball of noise and stupidity that somehow managed to consistently make a fool of Lastation's perfect goddess.

Normally, Noire would groan in disgust – as she often did – at the thought that she would always be playing second fiddle to someone who treated life as a joke.

Normally, Noire would – if only briefly – entertain the idea that this would be an opportune moment to rid herself of a longtime enemy before anyone was the wiser.

Normally, a wistful smile would have formed at the memory of them crossing blades in battle for the first time – a moment lost in time to Neptune herself.

Today, though…

The goddess of Lastation could once again feel the urge to vent the confused mix of emotions within. Didn't this stupid girl know that there was more to life than lazing about every day? Didn't this stupid girl know that she had a whole nation of people who looked up to her? Didn't this stupid girl know that she hurt everyone who cared for her by ignoring them? Did this stupid girl even know that people _did_ care for her?

Noire's awareness allowed several new observations into the fold. The first was that she was clenching her teeth together rather painfully – she should probably stop that. The second was that Neptune's snoring seemed to have trailed off. The third was that words were meeting her ears.

"Nepgear…"

Was Neptune mumbling in her sleep? Somehow, the words "mumbling" and "Neptune" didn't even seem like they belonged in the same sentence together.

"Nepgear…it's not too late to stop…you don't have to kill your big sis…"

Noire's eyebrow instantly shot up upon hearing this. What _did_ someone like Planeptune's CPU dream about, anyway?

"Noire…"

"Hm?"

"Noire…why? Why did you do this?"

Noire felt a jolt shoot through her when Neptune's hand suddenly closed around her own.

"Noire…why did you make her kill her big sis?"

"I…er…" A cold sweat was forming upon Noire's brow, a dreadful chill sweeping through her body. _She's only dreaming, but…what should I do?_

Her question was answered when the death grip on her wrist grew limp. "It's okay, Noire. I forgive you. Nepgear forgives you. We all forgive you."

" _For what?!_ "

It was then that Neptune gave a noisy yawn, limbs stretching out to their maximum length. She stopped when she felt her arm brush against something strange. A few blinks of those purple eyes later, and a broad smile was forming on her face. " _Goooood_ morning, Noire. Watching me in my sleep, huh? That's very creepy and/or sexy of you! I wonder which angle you were going for?" A giggle. "If I know my Noire, I bet it was both! You sly devil and/or angel, you."

In the next moment, Noire was kicking her legs over the side of the bed.

"Leaving so soon?" A gasp. " _Nepu!_ It's the dreaded Noire Cold Shoulder – the worst of all punishments from the Black-Hearted One Herself!"

"Go back to sleep. Histoire told me you don't even bother until noon."

For once, Neptune was left without a quip or a comment with which to lighten the mood. Those words had actually stung a little – and that measured-but-angry closing of the door lined her up for a two-hit combo that left her wondering just when Noire's tsundere heart had truly turned black.

* * *

 _You always know just how to make me upset._

The words came to mind unbidden. Had that been a dream?

 _What a stupid question._

These words, too, floated through without input. Noire shook her head, slapping a hand to her face and grasping with perhaps a little more force than was safe. _Get a grip. You're the CPU of Lastation, not some angsty shounen protagonist._

 _You always know just how to make me upset._

The phrase repeated itself over and over despite her best efforts to control her thoughts, with each utterance digging deeper at the well of emotions buried within. Certainly, there was no denying the truth behind it – even being in Neptune's presence was enough to make Noire's blood boil at the same time that it made her heart flutter. Had it always been like this? She could hardly even remember a time when Neptune didn't cross her mind at least once a day.

"Hm. My writer sense is tingling – it tells me that somewhere over here can be found an anime character dealing with inner turmoil. How original."

Noire lifted her head to see a familiar face turning around the corner. "Blanc."

"Noire."

The two stared at one another for a time. They had never been much for words when they were not presented with a third party to break the ice. Each could sense the awkwardness brimming from the other, the long list of sentences too embarrassing to speak. Indeed, neither of them had given the other much presence of mind even when they were ostensibly friends – how many times had the goddesses gathered together for a night of fun, games, and flared tempers? A bit too many, perhaps, as Histoire might say.

"Histoire only does what she thinks is best for all of us."

Noire blinked a few times in surprise. "What – are you a mind reader now?"

"May I enter?"

It took a moment for the question to register. Noire managed what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Ah…sure."

Blanc bowed before taking a step into the secretive little garden the Lastation CPU had stumbled upon on the outskirts of town. Something stopped her from sitting on the bench opposite of where Noire was seated, however. "Let me think. What could possibly ail the proud goddess of Lastation? Oh, I know – Neptune."

The urge for Noire to blurt out all of her troubles to a listening ear was a tempting one, but the "proud goddess" was too savvy to divulge such information to an enemy. And, besides – it _would_ be a terrible blow to her pride.

"You were just thinking about how we might technically be friends. Now you're calling me an enemy. I almost feel offended. Almost."

"Gah! Stop _doing_ that!" Noire rose to her feet, assuming her usual haughty stance, her smile having quickly turned into a challenger's glare. "What's your motive here? I can tell you want something."

"Oh? Is it not simply enough to want to talk to a friend?"

"No. You don't have friends."

"Speak for yourself."

Noire could definitely feel her teeth press together this time. How often did she do that, exactly? She'd soon start getting some stern words from her dentist at this rate. "Are you here just to make fun of me? Yes, it's true – I'm…not comfortable with Neptune." Her jaw clenched once again. Why did she even say that? Idiot.

Blanc raised a hand to her mouth in contemplation, her voluminous sleeve doing an excellent job of obscuring her face. "Have you considered talking to her about it?"

"Yes! I have! Countless times! And every time, she just laughs it off with some stupid joke!"

"I see. And have you thought about why, as you said, she makes you uncomfortable?"

"Of course! I—" Noire caught herself. "You already know these things. Why are you even bothering to ask?"

"Because it's fun."

The words struck a wound deep into Lastation's spirit, resonating with a kind of poisonous burn that only the truth could bring. Noire nearly yelled out another reply before stopping herself once again. Her hands were balling into fists, and she was forced to take a deep breath to let the anger flow away. Unfortunately, this only brought her to an even lower state, as evidenced by her frustrated sigh. "This is hopeless."

"'Hopeless?'"

A nod – and a step taken forward. "You know _exactly_ what I mean. Being forced to be the butt of every joke for the rest of eternity…being forced to lose at every turn no matter how hard I try…being forced to fall in love with _her_ , an idiot who can transform into a Mary Sue to solve all the problems she creates in the blink of an eye…"

"Ouch. Sounds tough. Also, that rhymed."

Noire could clearly feel the tears coming to her eyes, but there was little she could do to stop them. "So help me!"

"Help you? I thought _I_ was the one who wanted something."

"You're a writer, aren't you? _You_ have control over this story, don't you?! Change it! Make me fall in love with someone smart, and kind, and dashing, and…and…"

Blanc's gaze narrowed to a squint. "Who said that _I_ have that kind of power?"

At this, Noire simply lowered herself slowly back to the bench, eyes cast downward at nothing in particular. Rarely had Lady Noire ever looked so defeated. "I guess I'm stuck with her, then, huh?"

"Just as much as she's stuck with you."

Noire merely continued to contemplate the grass at her feet. Around her was an oasis in a land of dying memories, a place where nature grew freely while its caretakers grew ever more neglectful. Soon enough, this garden would no longer be recognizable as a place once tended to by human hands.

The goddess reached down to pluck a flower that stood out among the rest of the foliage – almost any florist would be able to recognize it as a weed despite its beauty. She gave it a wistful look, twirling it to and fro in her fingers.

"I suppose a politically-arranged marriage could work in our favor…but I don't know if Lastation's people – _my_ people – would be happy about it. Or Histoire, for that matter. I know _I_ wouldn't be, although Uni and Nepgear…" A quiet giggle came from Noire. "I guess I'm a little jealous at how well they get along. I'm so used to going it alone that the idea of Uni growing up with a friend seems strange to me. Then again, the idea of having a _sister_ is still so new to me – sometimes I wonder if I'm setting the right example for her."

Noire blinked away an errant tear before tossing aside her flower with an absent-minded gesture. A sigh followed while Noire propped her head upon a hand.

"I just…can't see myself standing beside Neptune, no matter how many times I picture it…" A groan. "…And no matter how many times I see _others_ picture it. Maybe this is one of those moments where I'll look back on myself in a hundred years and think about how much of an idiot I was. Or…maybe I'll realize that I was right."

As her vision focused back to the world around her, she became aware that she was still in the presence of another. She gave Blanc a shy glance.

" _Am_ I just an idiot? Is there some redeeming side to Neptune that I'm simply not seeing?"

The expression on Blanc's face was unreadable, but her gaze was practically burning a hole through the goddess of Lastation.

"Blanc?"

There was no answer. Noire rose to her feet slowly, cautiously. What thoughts were boiling within Lowee's CPU? Was she about to explode into rage, as she often did? Noire took a step forward, every muscle tensed and ready to jump.

"Blanc? Is something wrong?"

"'Is something wrong?'"

Noire blinked as her question was echoed back at her. Her eyes moved to Blanc's hands, noting that they were clenching tightly. On closer inspection, the girl's entire body seemed to be trembling!

Another step forward. "Are you…upset?"

The question was met with silence.

"Blanc? I—"

"Stop."

Noire had been in the process of reaching for Blanc's arm, as foolish of an idea as that was. Lastation's CPU did well to put some distance back between them in the next moment.

A sharp inhale could be heard from the goddess of Lowee. Her gaze remained unbroken as, in the same soft tone she always used, she spoke, "Never do that again." This was followed by her turning and walking away without another word.

It was all Noire could do to stare and wonder, a thousand thoughts playing upon her mind.

Today, though…

No – there _was_ more that she could do.

"Blanc." She felt her legs move forward. A good start, but not good enough.

 _You're a goddess, not a socially awkward teenager. Get to it!_

"Blanc! I'm sorry!" Now she had broken into a run. Better. "Blanc! Let me apologize to you, dammit! _Blanc!_ "

* * *

"Oh my. It appears that credit pay apps do not function across dimensions. How unfortunate."

" _Nepu!_ We came all the way here just to have our credits set to less than zero! Ooooohg…now we'll be forced to perform slave labor for the rest of our lives to pay off our debts – washing dishes until our hands bleed soap, scrubbing floors until the carpet shows our reflection, fulfilling all kinds of naughty desires for our money-holding overlords…"

"Good grief. Why do you always have to say such weird stuff, Neptune?"

Vert and Neptune turned to see their Lastation and Lowee counterparts entering the lobby of the Harbor Oak Hotel. The proprietor must have only just woken to have missed their prior exit, as evidenced by the bewildered glare he shot each of them.

"Ah…I would ask what occasion brought the two of you together," said Vert, "but I believe there may be a slightly more pressing matter at hand."

"We were having a friendly chat," was Blanc's explanation. The glance she exchanged with Noire was more than enough to make Vert's brow raise.

Mr. Oak watched their banter with disinterest, scratching his chin with a finger. "Yes, yes, missies. Either ye pay up a fair due, or I'll get a fair due of another kind. I would say it don't matter much to me, but I _do_ like money! _Real_ money, that is – not that counterfeit nonsense Monopoly money ye handed me last night! Teach _me_ to not count the bills!"

The air in the room grew a little more tense when Blanc stepped up to the counter. She cleared her throat as the others moved aside. "I must give our deepest apologies, sir. We are just a few poor girls down on our luck, and we needed somewhere to stay for but a single night. Would you waive the fee just this once? For us?"

A silence passed while the occupants of the room tried to comprehend the words that had just been uttered by the CPU of Lowee.

Neptune gave a nervous giggle, placing a hand on the back of her head. "So, um…did an alien abduct Blanc and replace her with a clone last night or something?"

"I'm wondering the same thing myself," said Noire, her face clearly showing her disbelief.

The owner of the hotel appeared unfazed. "No can do, missy. No playing favorites – that's me motto." He leaned forward, his expression falling into a scowl as he slammed his hands onto the counter. " _Pay up._ "

Only one person was surprised by the explosion that was unleashed in the following moment. Blanc reached over the counter with startling speed, lifting Mr. Oak by the collar of his shirt in the classic manner. The CPU's face bore no pretenses of innocence as she spoke her next words. "Our stay was free. In fact, we were never here, because if we _were_ here, there'd be a really _nasty_ scene left to clean up afterward."

A smug smile slowly crept upon Mr. Oak's face. "Eh? You think I can be intimidated by a little girly, do ye? You wanna have a go, girl? Can't believe I'm being threatened by a touri—"

His words were interrupted by being flung across the room with inhuman strength. A _crack_ could be heard as he impacted the wall and sent a variety of decorative sundries – and dust – flying, though the source of the sound was not quite clear. Neither would the CPUs have a chance to verify Mr. Oak's health, as Blanc was already storming back through the entrance of the hotel.

"Let's go."


	6. Quantum Fate Entanglement

_Alt title: The Quantum Your Entanglement Could Spin Like_

* * *

"Blanc–"

"I don't want to hear it, Vert."

No one had questioned the need to put distance between themselves and the hotel after the scuffle, although their departure from Harbor Oak had been thankfully uneventful. They had half-expected to be chased out of town by an angry crowd after news of the attack on Mr. Oak made its rounds. Of course, there was no telling what kind of rumor mill would be generated. Would a crotchety old man even admit that he'd nearly been killed by a girl?

"Uhgggg…my feet hurt. Can we take a break?"

Neptune held back her playful laugh. She already knew what the response would be – or so she thought. The combined glares of Blanc and Noire were enough to stun her back into silence. When had they become so _scary?_

Vert gave a timid chuckle as she exchanged a glance with Neptune. "Ah, but the weather is _so_ nice this morning. Would it hurt to rest our weary feet for a moment?" A gentle breeze punctuated her words, causing a series of ripples to flow through the grass.

The fire in Noire's eyes was unmistakable, even still. "Chop chop, Vert! There's no time to waste! Gamindustri needs us as soon as it can get us!"

A sigh. "Very well. If you insist. I suppose the reception we will receive at Leanbox shall make up for my tired body, yes?"

Neptune added to her sentiment with a laugh. "Ooh – this sounds like a perfect opportunity for the obligatory bath scene!"

Vert's sly smile was something to behold. "Ah, but I will have you know that the bathhouses of Leanbox are without parallel – perfect for the bubbly, giggly fanservice that will no doubt begin the next chapter!"

A groan of disgust could be heard from one of the two persons in front, but no further words were spoken on the matter.

The party continued on for a time yet. While it was true that the morning was a pleasant one, none of them were accustomed to taking such long journeys on the open road. The sun beat down upon them as it ascended through the sky on its daily cycle, its heat being only partially mitigated by the light fog that had settled over the land. An occasional wind would blow through the dew-soaked plains, bringing with it a chill, along with an alien, salt-tinged scent. A glance over one's shoulder would reveal Harbor Oak and the forest it bordered, giving the sense that little progress had been made even after so much walking.

Every now and then, they would come across some sign of civilization – sometimes in a literal sense, in the form of an old wooden signpost confirming that this was the road to the capital. At other times, they would spot an abandoned farmhouse in the distance, its fields reclaimed by nature, or happen to see a set of picnic tables arranged around a weed-choked flower bed, with no indication of the last time anyone had ever enjoyed a day in the sun.

The silence was pierced by another sigh from Vert. "To think that a world could contain such a great expanse of emptiness…Not even the Leanbox I know has the luxury on display here."

Noire nodded. "We're lucky that we happened upon Harbor Oak when we did. I, for one, don't relish the idea of trying to camp out in the woods with the three of you."

A brilliant idea then struck Neptune. "Uh…you guys know that we're CPUs, right? We can just…fly…"

Vert made a nervous little laugh. "You…bring up a good point, Neptune."

Another epiphany came to Neptune. "I blame the writer for not remembering! Hah! Take _that_ , fourth wall!"

Noire gave a chuckle of her own as she stopped in her tracks and turned to face the rest of the group. "Well, then. Shall we fly together?"

"No."

All eyes were on Blanc at this assertion. The word had been spoken quietly.

"Oh? It would certainly be kinder to our feet, wouldn't you agree?" remarked Vert.

"No," Blanc repeated. "We can't."

Noire took a step toward the Lowee CPU. "Wait – do you mean…"

"Why don't you try it for yourself and see?"

"Hmph. Maybe I will, then!"

A moment passed as Noire took a deep breath. Then, without warning, she was enveloped by a pillar of white light. By the time it receded, an entirely different person was in her place – she could be described as a white-haired angel, albeit one fitted with sufficiently advanced armor that served to defy physics. "Hah! Looks like it worked just fine."

Blanc's eyes were wide open, almost as if she had never witnessed this miracle countless times before. "It…looks like it did."

Black Heart raised a hand, flexing her metal-clad fingers with deliberate slowness. "Ah…I'd almost forgotten how good this form feels. It must really _suck_ to be human." She floated over to Blanc, staring the earthbound girl down with a smirk. "Well? Do we have your permission to fly now?"

A nod. "Yes."

"Ah, good."

Neptune seemed more excited than ever. "Alright! Transform!"

The other goddesses followed suit with three more flashes of light, leaving behind their previous forms and becoming something far greater. They demonstrated their full glory as they took off from the ground in unison, a formation of heavenly beings soaring through the sky. Their conversation was limited, given the difficulty of hearing while moving at such speed, but they covered much more ground than would have been possible as humans.

Yet, even from this height, the massive sprawl of the land beneath them dwarfed their comprehension. Only a faint blue glow to the side revealed that there was any end to this plain. If one squinted, they could see that, yes, the outline of a metropolis with gleaming white towers was visible far ahead, but it took a great deal of patience to realize that, yes, it was in fact growing larger as they approached. _Incredibly_ large, even. One could likely fit every capital of the world they knew inside this single city and have room to spare. How powerful, then, were the goddesses of this land, being granted the strength of the many people who must inhabit it?

The CPUs' flight ended as they landed some ways away from the entrance to the city and transformed back to their human selves, erring in favor of caution.

"It would seem that not all is the same here," said Vert, noting one particular skyscraper that covered part of the city like a giant table. "The Leanbox I know certainly does not have such an ugly structure lording over it."

The road they had landed near was a far cry from the dirt path that they had beat their feet upon before. This was a freeway wide enough to fit several lanes of traffic in both directions, but yet there was not a single vehicle in sight. Noire pointed this out, adding, "I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this."

Blanc immediately tensed up. "Don't you _ever_ say that line!"

Neptune contributed with, "Yeah! You might trigger an event flag or something!"

Noire responded by becoming as defensive as usual. "Sheesh, sorry for voicing my thoughts."

As they approached, it became clear that the entrance to the city was far more reinforced than expected. While some of the cities of their own world were surrounded by walls, this took fortification to a whole new level. The area looked more akin to a military fort than anything, complete with tanks, turrets, and even a fearsomely tall mecha on standby.

"Okay!" called Noire. "Group meeting time! Let's huddle up and put our heads together!"

"You got it, coach!" replied Neptune.

Several minutes of observation and brainstorming passed. This city bore the name of Leanbox, but the similarities ended there. The buildings stretching high above the thick metal wall formed an impressive skyline of glittering glass and elevated highways with a sleek, modern design never found in the Leanbox they knew. If anything, it most closely resembled Planeptune, a place known for incorporating its love of technology into every aspect of its design and culture. Such excess was an eyesore to Vert, who had grown to love the quaint, romantic air of her homeland.

A more pressing concern was the fact that the party was completely in the open. From such a distance, the CPUs likely appeared as tiny dots on the horizon to any guards that may be posted, but there was still the question of whether they would be greeted with hostility or open arms. Could they dare to hope for a warm welcome when such a show of force was on display?

Their attention was drawn by a low rumble beneath their feet. At first, each one of them believed it to be their imagination, but as it increased in volume and power, it became impossible to ignore. They turned to see a crowd following the road in the distance. Slowly but surely, it drew closer…and the rumbling grew louder.

Then, Vert finally decided to broach the question. "Does anyone else hear… _music?_ "

Indeed, the sounds of a cheery tune could be heard coming from the procession, carrying a sort of frolicking melody fit for dancing and merriment. It brought to mind tales and games of ages past, a time when the idea of traveling beyond one's hometown, let alone one's nation, was an unconscionable thought. Yet, underneath it all could be heard the ominous rumbling, creating a dissonant strain to clash against.

At the very front were several rows of knights in extravagant armor, adorned with tabards that matched the fluttering flags held high above in their hands. The emblem they bore was unknown to the goddesses, but it was unmistakably purple. A trio of words was present on each flag in an ancient script that Histoire had once forced each goddess to learn: _Victorum, Unitas, Victoria_.

Just behind these unarmed escorts was the main attraction of the festival – an enormous moving tower, wide enough to occupy every lane of the road it was slowly rolling down. The base beneath it was a vehicle, consisting of a platform with no less than twenty wheels, each tall enough to fit several people inside. The tower itself stretched far into the sky, rivaling those found within the city it now stared down. And, as with the emblems, its design was undoubtedly Planeptunian, looking as if it had been sculpted by the hands of an artist with an eye toward the stars.

The crowd trailing behind this must have numbered in the thousands, a train of revelers stretching to the horizon and beyond. How had they been overlooked during the goddess' flight? Those in the shadow of the tower looked to be bustling with excitement, many of them dancing and playing as they walked. Some entrepreneurial individuals were even selling refreshments as the procession moved ever forward.

Then, it stopped. A chain reaction occurred for miles down the road with the line coming to a sudden halt. The music faded away, as did the din of the crowd, leaving behind nothing but the wind. Moments passed, the knights solemn in their duty as they faced down an army of modern hardware with little more protection than a few inches of steel.

A voice called from above. " _Victorum. Unitas. Victoria_. These words you shall soon know well, denizens of Gamindustri."

The CPUs turned their attention to the speaker, their eyes settling upon a balcony jutting from the side of the tower. Beneath the blinding sun could be seen the silhouette of a wide-brimmed hat, akin to the sort that a classic depiction of a witch might wear.

"My heart hardened to mercy, I bear the onus of a new Union. Where four nations had once stood divided, now one nation must stand united. But before one can rise, one must fall. Of Leanbox, I ask: bend your knee, O Land of Green Pastures."

There was no response. Moments later, the march resumed with newfound haste. The tower rumbled forward with its horrible noise, appearing as if it intended to ram the city gate. No resistance was presented as it barreled straight through the middle of Leanbox's army. Any soldier, vehicle, or mecha in its path did its best to move aside, as if the tower's knights projected a field of force that no manmade invention could hope to stop.

As the knights drew closer, the gate to the city began to warp and bend, lifting away piece by piece as if picked apart by invisible hands, before vanishing into nothingness. The presence of matter was no obstacle to the strength of their belief – their march continued onward without even a hint of slowing down as they passed through what used to be an impenetrable barrier. Soon enough, the tower was inside the city, and its followers flowed in behind it much like an army storming a castle.

The goddesses had stood stunned as they watched this incredible display, but they were finally brought to their senses when Blanc exclaimed, "Now! This is our best chance to get inside!" They rushed over to join the crowd, managing to blend in with minimal fuss. Beneath the rumbling of the tower could be heard a variety of excitement.

"That was so cool! How much work did that trick take, I wonder?"

"I hope there's going to be food. I heard Leanbox likes its meals big and hearty!"

"All these youngsters disrespecting their Goddess with their rambling…"

"Who's that up on the Tower, anyway?"

This last question was also one among many for the goddesses. The voice of that speaker had been eerily familiar, but none of them could quite place it. Still, that was hardly the most pressing matter at hand when they could barely even understand what was taking place. Was this an invasion? A ceremony? An elaborate LARP event? All of the above?

And then, they stepped through the entrance. Lined up on either side of the road was another crowd in its own right, looking on with excitement and wonder in the shadows cast by the dense metropolis' constructions. Many of them even cheered as the tower rolled through. The city itself looked to have been built around this event – the road continued onward in a straight line, never being interrupted by a single building or any of the highways snaking overhead like the circuits of a massive motherboard. Truly, it was an achievement for municipal planning.

The parade entered a wide plaza minutes later. The road gave way to tiled stone, and the buildings gave way to LED-lined fountains and park benches on the outskirts of the clearing. That deafening rumbling ended as the tower came to a stop right in the middle. The knight escorts moved to encircle the tower, creating a ring of flags and steel. The members of the crowd moved to do much the same, leaving a wide berth between themselves and the knights.

After a great deal of shuffling about, the tower was again surrounded by eerie silence – not even the normal din expected of a city was present. The amount of people gathered in that plaza alone likely outnumbered the entire population of the Gamindustri the goddesses knew. A look up revealed even more citizens peering down from the glassy structures around the plaza, along with a variety of drones and blimps hovering overhead – cameras, perhaps?

A voice interrupted their thoughts, sweeping across the clearing with stark clarity. "The innocence of our world has been shattered. Our contract of peace, that which has guided our nations for countless generations, has been broken. Through Conquest, I render this godless land null.

"Of Leanbox, I asked: bend your knee, O Land of Green Pastures. To me, you answered with great pride: no. You were not willing to fall, so I have led you to fall. Through Conquest, I have bent your knee. At the mercy of a merciless Conqueror, you have reached your end.

"Yet, I forgive, not from mercy, but from need. In truth, our world has been shattered from its very inception – four nations, each separate, and each in pointless feud. We have now reached the inevitable conclusion of this struggle, one nation rising above all others. But even a strong nation can grow stronger.

"Of this land, I now ask: take my hand. This is the end of Leanbox, the nation. But it can also be the beginning of Leanbox, follower of the Goddess. With four nations joined as one, the dawn of a new golden age looms on the horizon. I ask: will you take my hand?"

A single person approached from the crowd, stepping out into the vast empty space between the knights and the onlookers. From where the goddesses stood, barely able to see over the shoulders of those around them, it was difficult to make out her appearance. At best, they could tell that she wore an ornate black and green dress, her face partly obscured by her flowing blonde hair.

Vert took in a sharp breath. "Is that…me?"

"Nahhhhh," replied Neptune. "She's not as large up…um…she's not as round around the…you know…"

"Would you like to complete that sentence, Neptune?"

Those words had been spoken with a smile, but the CPU of Planeptune knew from hard-won experience when to seal her lips.

The blonde stranger in the plaza crossed her arms, assuming a haughty posture. "Tell me, Oracle of the Goddess, who stands on high in her ivory Tower – what is Gamindustri to you, hm?"

One could practically _feel_ the smirk on her face. A low murmur went through the crowd.

The Oracle didn't respond for a moment, leaning over to grasp the balcony's railing as if to get a better look at the source of this insolence. "Duchess of Leanbox, your land stands on the cusp of total destruction. A single whim from the Goddess would be enough to remove every trace of life upon this island. But such a whim will never come to pass, because Gamindustri would be no more – not a single hope would remain for healing this fractured world." The next words were spoken with a much more menacing edge. " _Does this answer your question, Duchess?_ "

"No. I clearly asked what _you_ believe Gamindustri to be. Instead, you have alluded to why your _Goddess_ needs Leanbox. I applaud your ability to sidestep, though. You make an apt politician, yes?"

The muttering in the crowd was growing to an uncomfortable level.

"Very well." Just after that, one could barely hear, "We shall play your little game, Duchess of Leanbox. I am expecting this to be entertaining."

The silhouette on the balcony suddenly whipped off her hat with a flourish, tossing it aside like a Frisbee. It seemed to float down ever so slowly, traveling in increasingly wide circles around the tower as if caught in an inverted whirlpool.

"I got it! I got it!" Neptune shouted, forcing her way through the crowd. "I got— _oof_." Just before she would've jumped to catch the hat, she bumped right into someone who apparently had the same idea. Neptune gave a disappointed groan before motioning to pick herself up from the ground. A hand then appeared before her. She looked up to see that it belonged to the one who'd beaten her to the punch. "Yay. Lucky you," Neptune whined as she was helped to her feet.

Then, when she took another look at the red-headed stranger, the CPU exclaimed, " _Nepu!_ Do I spy with my little eyes a person whose name begins with—" A finger was pressed to her lips, signaling silence. The maybe-stranger had a knowing smile on her face, which was the last thing Neptune saw of her before the woman vanished into the crowd, hat in tow.

Meanwhile, the Goddess' representative had perched herself atop the railing like an anti-hero ready to pounce on an unsuspecting thug. And pounce she did, overcoat billowing in the wind as she fell several stories down, the descent slowing just before she reached the ground to allow for a dramatic landing in front of the Duchess. Wasting no time, the Oracle stepped forward, speaking, "What is Gamindustri to me? It is but a world – one among countless others. And like so many others, it is a well of untapped potential. A vast array of possibilities stretch out in a weave with no certain end. Not even the heat death of the universe is an inevitable demise for a land capable of such change. After all, reality is a fragile concept when one's very perception can shape existence. Are you not in agreeance, Duchess of Leanbox?" She punctuated her words by reaching up to adjust her hat.

The Oracle's smirk had not budged in the slightest. "Ah. So you _do_ know at least one magic trick. Going to pull a bunny out of it next, hm?"

"No doubt your wit is of great use as a statesman of a subjugated land, whose greatest achievement to date is finally having her staff realize that her predecessor was replaced. But of course, a politician such as yourself would prefer to sidestep the argument presented. If only sidestepping had been enough to prevent the fall of Leanbox."

That was enough to draw a few sounds of protest from the crowd.

Vert's lips pursed as she thought something over. "How odd. They did not object to the idea of Leanbox being conquered earlier, did they?"

The Duchess' smirk had very much fallen now, being replaced by a scowl. She unfolded her arms and took a step forward to put the two women within reach of one another. It seemed as if she was going to give a reply, but instead she stood there with her mouth open for a moment before changing her mind.

Nearly a minute passed as the two representatives remained silent, seeming to stare one another down. A closer look would reveal that their mouths were moving, but their words were inaudible. By now, the crowd was becoming rowdy. No one seemed to understand just what was happening, least of all the party of goddesses, who were beginning to wonder if they would need to intervene.

One man stepped forward from the crowd – another man tried to stop him by grasping at his shirt, but he was shoved away.

"Hey! Idiots! This isn't amateur hour at the opera house, you know! You're supposed to follow the scri— _whoa!_ "

The man was thrown back by an unseen force before getting halfway across the gap. He was left lying on his back near the edge of the crowd, dazed and winded. Several people hurried forward to see to him, while even more began to protest this abrupt violence.

Then, a shout cut through the din. "I ask once more, people of Leanbox: _will you take my hand?_ "

"Yes. We will."

The representatives' hands met in formal fashion with an audible clap. The world seemed to grow still once again as the sound echoed across the plaza with unnatural clarity. A rumbling became apparent, building in intensity over a period of several minutes. Many of those in the crowd looked alarmed, but some had apparently been anticipating this moment, as they reassured the others that this part, at least, was normal.

A look up revealed that, at the very top of the tower, a pure white light was increasing in brightness, soon growing to rival the noon sun.

And then, the sun fell.

A collective gasp went through the crowd as day became night in a single instant. Yet, the plaza remained brightly lit by the power resting in the tower's zenith, an unearthly pallor being cast upon the onlookers.

"Then it is with great honor that I, on behalf of the Goddess, declare this former land of Leanbox to be an official nation-state within the Union of Gamindustri."

The city flared to life, the thousands of lights placed throughout the metropolis now functioning as if this was any normal night. Leanbox filled itself with a neon green glow, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind about where in Gamindustri they might be.

A cheer went through the crowd – weakly at first, but soon growing in volume to reach a deafening level. Their cries were joined by music, a jovial tune similar to that which had guided them to the city. A variety of civil servants belatedly jumped to action, directing the sections of the crowd to various other areas within the city to be provided with catering, entertainment, and lodging. Soon, the plaza was nearly empty – beyond a few stragglers, the only beings left behind were the knights, who had remained unmoving throughout the entire ceremony and had yet to cease in their duty, the group of goddesses, and the two representatives.

"That was…an _interesting_ experience," remarked Vert.

"To put it lightly," Blanc added.

" _Nepu!_ " Neptune exclaimed. "Am I the only one wondering if someone ate the sun?!"

Noire replied with a sigh. "I doubt it was something so ridiculous. Still, I have to wonder what kind of magic can do something like that."

"Hmm…" Blanc raised a hand to her chin. "Time magic could. But it would need to be powerful enough to affect a large area." She turned her gaze upward, squinting at the glare from above. "That must be a share crystal on the tower. Logic would dictate that it belongs to whoever this 'Goddess' is."

"Ah. In that case, she must be brave to parade her share crystal around the countryside," said Vert. "In most games, such a thing would prove to be the target in a very irritating escort mission. Better to place it behind three sets of fully upgraded walls, yes?"

"So…a goddess of time, hm?" Noire mused. "And a strong one at that. Strong enough that she isn't afraid of enemies attacking her weak point while it's out in the open…or maybe strong enough that there aren't any enemies left to _do_ that." A slight smile appeared on her face. "She sounds like my kind of rival."

Blanc turned her attention back to the CPUs around her, giving Noire a cautioning look. "She sounds dangerous."

"She sounds exactly like the kind of goddess who might take over Gamindustri by force," said Vert. "How uncouth."

"She sounds exactly like the kind of goddess who might need a hero that can solve things in half a minute!" Neptune shouted, arms raised over her head.

Vert placed a finger on her lips. "Sh sh sh! Your enthusiasm for gaming references is always appreciated, but, please, not so loud, Neptune!" She cleared her throat and lowered her hand. "Perhaps it would be wise to discuss our next move? It is safe to assume that this 'Goddess' would see us as competition, yes? And we have an inkling of what she does to competition, yes?"

Blanc nodded. "Vert has the right idea. We can't afford to attract attention." A moment passed while she eyed the remnants of the crowd in the plaza. "We should lay low for now until we can learn more about—" She was interrupted by a deep growl coming from her stomach. Some part of her was glad that her blush wasn't visible in the contrasting lighting.

A giggle came from Vert. "Ah. But perhaps our plans could wait until after joining in some festivities?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

* * *

"And off they now go, to wherever fate may take them."

"Who? Those girls, you mean?"

The Oracle nodded. "Of course. Who else would I be speaking of?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe the _thousands_ of other people gathered here, not to mention the _thousands_ of people who were watching on national television?"

"Hm. I again must question your intent to, as they say, 'go off-script.' Ah – but perhaps your memory is simply failing you once again? In such an event, I must commend your ability to improvise."

"I remembered it perfectly well, thank you."

"So it was by one's own decision, then? You are well aware that the _thousands_ of those who view this event must be harvested efficiently. The Goddess will not be pleased to find her share from Leanbox to be less than the expected amount."

The Duchess waved a hand dismissively. "Pssh. If the Goddess has a problem, she can come down here and say it to my face for once. I tire of receiving text messages with veiled threats. She keeps me up at night, she does." She raised a finger, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face. "That was not innuendo. No need to add 'blasphemy' to the list of offenses, yes?"

A tiny smirk formed on the Oracle's lips. "It is never ceasing to amuse me how alike you are to your predecessor. It was by no small miracle that you were appointed the title of Duchess."

"As you've said many, _many_ times, _yes, yes_." The Duchess shook her head, allowing her irritated tone to cool away. "Bad enough that everyone keeps calling me 'Hakozaki' by accident. I barely even met the woman before she was carted off, you know! It's not like she rubbed off on me or anything!" A pause. "And, again, that was not innuendo!"

"No one was implying anything of the sort." The Oracle's smirk fell. "But we digress, as our conversations are always wont to do."

"You are implying that it is my fault, yes?"

The Oracle stared at her companion for a moment before turning her attention to a quartet of silhouettes in the distance. "You will be meeting them soon enough."

"The girls?"

Another stare.

The Duchess forced down a swallow, suddenly feeling as if her throat was uncomfortably tight. "Right. Of course. Shall I have them fetched to the Basilicom?"

"No. Their fates may be of looser weave than many, but they must converge at preordained points. It is inevitable."

The Duchess felt a hundred questions spring to mind, but her lips remained sealed. She knew better than to pester this woman about "fate" by now. The answers always just created more questions, anyway. Her talks with the Oracle tended to remind her of that time she'd stayed up an entire night browsing the archives' collection of works on quantum entanglement, only to end up with a blistering headache.

She looked to the Oracle to follow her gaze, but whatever she had been eying seemed to be gone. _So should I be preparing a feast or a defense grid?_ She turned back to the Oracle, only to find that the woman had vanished without a trace. A sigh escaped the Duchess' lips as she began the walk home, paying little mind to the suited shadows that followed her movements. _And they wonder what drives me so insane._

 _Acknowledging the illness is the first step to curing it._

She stopped in her tracks, giving a few surprised blinks. A quick look around revealed nothing out of the ordinary in the green-on-white glow of the streetlights. She chuckled to herself before continuing on. _Maybe there'll be_ two _leaders of Leanbox in the loony bin soon…_


	7. What a Mansion!

The former nation of Leanbox was no stranger to change, being subjected to a constant parade of influence from both within and without. Yet, there was no mistaking anything that was of Leanbox origin. While a Loweean tourist in Planeptune might only be ratted out from the natives by her complaints about the warm weather, a tourist from Leanbox may as well have been from a different world. Even now, Leanbox was often considered an outlier – a foreign land that engaged in a free exchange of culture and commerce with the "greater" or "major" Gamindustri. The juxtaposition of the island as a separate entity was a point of pride among its inhabitants. Thus, it was not difficult to see why Leanbox had provided no small amount of resistance to being assimilated into the Union of Gamindustri.

Over many years, the differences between Leanbox and its neighbors had pushed toward a happy medium. This was accelerated to an unprecedented degree after the creation of the Union. No longer was Leanbox allowed to carry on with its unique identity. Your hands-off leadership? Dangerous. Your systems of measurement? Obsolete. Your favorite gaming console? Inferior in every way. Even standards for beauty had shifted as Leanbox was bombarded by more and more foreign media, leading to an unexpected slump in domestic food sales and a strange new craze for extra-large contact lenses among those with perfectly normal vision.

Yet, there was one silver lining to it all that a certain Duchess was oh-so-thankful for: the proliferation of the soaking tub. Once considered a curiosity and a luxury for only the most vain, it was now common practice for many citizens of Leanbox to visit a bathhouse during at least one point in the weekly routine. Apartments and hotels now proudly advertised their newly-added communal bathing areas, and even a Loweean-style _onsen_ could be found adjacent to Leanbox Lake.

Relera Natal, who had on at least one occasion been described as "prudish" by an impetuous ex-date, certainly had no complaints about the Basilicom's latest renovations. As long as she could relax in the privacy of her own lavishly expensive bathroom, she couldn't care less how much skin others wished to show in the halls of a _sento_. She kept the door locked for a reason. And if she fell asleep and suffered the inglorious fate of drowning in the mineral-rich bath because no one knew where she was? Oh well, then – Leanbox would need to appoint another Duchess.

Or maybe a Duke, for once. She always did find the level of estrogen present at summit meetings to be uncomfortably lacking in balance, although she certainly wasn't bringing any less femininity to the table than anyone else. Was it really a problem, though? That fact that it nagged at her pointed to there being an issue, but she couldn't quite place why. Maybe she just wanted someone she could ogle while pretending to listen to the latest disaster tearing the nation apart.

She let out a sigh and propped herself up a little higher, suddenly noticing how close her nose was to the water. Her thoughts always went to strange places during her daily relaxation hour. As it turned out, she was self-aware enough to realize that letting her mind wander on its own for any length of time tended to make her self-aware. And that was just awkward, not to mention confusingly recursive. Had Chika been like that, too?

Okay – time to cut this hour short. She knew her mood would just turn sour if she allowed any further thoughts about the old Duchess of Leanbox.

A knocking came from the door. "Ms. Natal? Your Grace? Are you, perchance, in there? Your presence is requested in the Parliament Room. That is, assuming that you are, in fact, within the room behind this door. If not, then I suppose that I am simply wasting my time, aren't I?"

Relera, who was already halfway out of the tub, sank back down into the water. She held in her annoyed sigh, feeling her mouth twist into a scowl.

The knocking came again. "Ms. Natal? Hello?" Moments later, one could hear spoken more quietly, "I suppose she may have yet to return from her participation in the Festival. Why must Her Grace always take the scenic route when she knows there is work to be done?" A set of footsteps thumped away into the distance along with some unintelligible grumbling.

Now she could let out the sigh. Relera leaned her head back, glad to have avoided an encounter with her assistant. Of course, "assistant" was a generous term for someone whose job seemed to consist of being as useless and annoying as possible, with the least common sense possible, and the worst sense of timing possible. She was a firm believer in the concept of being "kicked upstairs" by this point.

"That would explain how you are now Duchess of Leanbox, would it not?"

Relera snapped upright, head frantically searching around in the dim, atmospheric lighting for the source of the words. Her eyes quickly met those of a familiar face. "Oracle?!"

The overcoat-clad woman laughed in her typical dramatic fashion. "Were you perhaps expecting someone else, Duchess of Leanbox?"

"Y-You…" Relera stared for a few moments, allowing realization to slowly reach her mind. She moved to cover herself as soon as it hit, splashing water onto the floor. "You could've knocked like a normal person, yes, you could have!"

"I could have – but would you have answered?" The Oracle did not bother hiding her mirth as Relera rose to her feet and rushed over to the towels. "Is there need for modesty in the presence of one who can lay bare your innermost thoughts, dear Natalia?"

"That's _Natal_ to you," Relera said, doing her best to secure a towel to her body. She'd never quite gotten the knack of it, not being in the habit of walking around without being properly dressed, but she was satisfied enough with her level of coverage as her gaze moved back to the smirking woman in front of her. "And I'd like you to stay out of my mind, thanks. It's not a pretty sight, anyway."

"Certainly, it is not as pretty as the sight on the outside, hm?"

When Relera just stared, the Oracle burst into more laughter.

"It is a shame that your ascension to Duchess has put a final nail in your dating life. No doubt the men of Leanbox find themselves saddened by this loss." The smirk fell. "But I digress."

"'As our conversations are always wont to do.'"

And the smirk returned. "Yes." And fell again. "There is another who is wishing to meet with you. I believe that you have been acquainted, so we will proceed to a more pertinent topic shortly."

"…You're not trying to set me up on a date, are you?"

That must've caught the Oracle off-guard, as her laughter seemed genuine this time. "Only if you are wishing for fierce competition." With that, she opened the door, stepping through and closing it behind her like a normal human being.

 _She didn't lock it. Bleh._

* * *

"Please, madam – you will be waiting for such a short period that it will seem but a moment to your senses. It is, as you may be aware, not often that a visitor is allowed to see Her Grace without any sort of appointment. You should consider it a blessing from Her Holiness herself that you were even permitted to set foot within this room."

The visitor eyed the rather short man before her with a guarded expression. It was true that she'd come without official invitation to speak with the most important woman in Leanbox, but it was also true that she was accustomed to having a special _agreement_ with the more obstructionist elements of bureaucracy. She moved her gaze around what had been called the Parliament Room, a wide open space with a large curved table placed in the middle. One end of the room ended at a set of elevators, while the other led to a double door that stretched about a quarter of the way to the shadowy ceiling far above. No windows were present – all of the lighting was provided by the LEDs lining the room and its furniture. So this was where the important decisions were made?

Her gaze returned to the bureaucrat. "I'm a representative of the Guild of Lowee."

"I'm sure that you are, madam. But that doesn't make Her Grace ready to see you any sooner. I—" The words nearly choked in his throat when he noticed a new presence in the room. "Your Reverence!" He gave an excessively polite bow, his forehead nearly touching the floor. "How may this humble assistant serve thee?"

"The answer to your query is simple," the Oracle spoke. "You may leave us."

"Y-Yes, Your Holiness." The assistant hurried over toward an elevator without further question, descending to another floor to perform another inane task.

The Oracle turned to the visitor, giving a reasonably warm smile. "Now, then. You shall be permitting me to give a more proper welcome." She made a bow resembling that which a magician or actor might perform. "I am the Oracle of Gamindustri, mouthpiece of the Goddess. Her will is my will, with all the weight that it bears. And you are a guest of Leanbox, no doubt having travelled far and wide to reach the fair Land of Green Pastures. As Oracle, my authority supersedes that of any other mortal – thus, I bid you welcome to this Basilicom. You stand now within the Parliament Room, an inner sanctum for the leaders of Leanbox to discuss issues affecting their land. It has also traditionally served as a place to greet guests of honor – assuming that they were given invitation to do so."

The guest gave a bow of her own, this one more humble in nature. "Then I must apologize, Your Reverence. I had assumed wrongly that—"

She was interrupted with a harsh laugh. "'Your Reverence,' is it? Perhaps it is unwise of me to assume formal pretenses. Of course you are welcome here, Falcom. It was I who summoned you here."

"R-Right." Falcom made an uneasy chuckle. "Sorry. I'm still not used to this kind of stuff. Being in this place makes me all kinds of nervous, like I'm going to breathe the wrong way and break something. Stupid, I know."

"Ah. Then allow me to further your nervousness by introducing you to the Duchess of Leanbox. I believe you have spoken once before, correct?"

"I…ah…think so. Not directly, though." Falcom let out a breath that she'd been holding. "For some reason, I think I felt more confident facing down my first dragon than I do now."

"Then perhaps I will be commanding the Duchess to spit fire. Would this make you more comfortable, guest of Leanbox?"

"Wait – she can do that?"

The question was left unanswered as the Oracle directed Falcom to the oversized set of doors in the back of the room. There was no visible way of opening them, although a holographic interface was present at eye level over the plain metallic surface. It came to life as they approached, displaying a message that asked for identification.

The Oracle cleared her throat. "'I am the Oracle of Gamindustri. I have no need for identification.' With one guest."

A beep – the message indicated that the security system was satisfied. Moments later, the doors _swooshed_ open, receding into the walls on either side. The Oracle directed them to step through, and the doors closed behind them in a similar manner.

Falcom was forced to do a double take at the sight beyond. Far from the ascetic design of the Parliament Room, she now found herself in a single-floor foyer that would not be out of place in a luxury hotel. A warm shade of beige dominated the area, which contained several arrangements of furniture covered in the finest fabrics that money could buy. The wood even looked real. The floor was made of a tile pattern that shined brightly from light cast through shaded lamps, mounted wall sconces, and a brass chandelier overhead, while the walls were covered in grotesques – flowing, plant-like shapes far too delicate to have been crafted by machines. The room was small, but it did its job well.

"Welcome, dear guest, to the private quarters of the Duchess of Leanbox," the Oracle spoke with a dramatic flair. "Do feel free to feast your eyes on the mortal comforts within."

"Wow…from the Neon City to the Duchess' Manor." Falcom took another look around, her expression becoming a questioning one. "But wait – there's no slippers, no floor mat…how does everything stay so _clean?_ Does she hire maids? I-If I'm allowed to ask, that is."

"I would warn you against troubling yourself with such details. But it is a simple thing to confirm that there are no maids involved." The Oracle gave a chuckle. "Ah – I can remember the reports I received from her subordinates. They were very insistent on providing her with a flock of servants to tend to her needs and a network of security cameras to ensure her safety. She refused. They asked that I, the Oracle of Gamindustri, convince her otherwise."

"I'm…guessing it didn't work out?"

As before, her question was left hanging as they stepped over to another door on the opposite side of the room, this one made of solid wood and cut in the shape of an arch. It did not greet them with an interface, sufficing with a decorative brass doorknob. The Oracle waved a hand – the door responded by opening itself with not even the slightest of creaks. Before them stretched a long, narrow hallway with décor similar to that of the foyer, although the floor turned to soft carpet here. Their attention was more concerned with the figure entering from one of the doors in the side of the hall, dressed in little more than a towel and still dripping with water.

"Greetings once more, Duchess of Leanbox. I present to you Falcom, agent and representative of the Guild of Lowee."

The woman must have jumped a foot in the air when she noticed that she was not alone. She clutched at her towel, throwing the Oracle a glare. "Did you become Oracle just so that you can disrespect people's privacy?"

A laugh. "Trust me when I say that I am not requiring the powers of an Oracle to perform such a task, dear Natalia."

" _Natal._ It's Natal. You know this. I know this. She…probably doesn't know this." Relera took in a breath and let it out as a sharp sigh before turning to the newcomer. "Hello. I am Relera Natal, Duchess of Leanbox. Yes, I am the real Duchess. Yes, the Oracle is a real asshole. Yes, I have the authority to say that. And yes, I am currently standing here in my own personal, private quarters in a towel. Any questions so far?"

"Ah…" Falcom was left speechless, finding this situation more difficult to process than the average life-threatening one. She decided that the best course of action was to make a polite bow. "I apologize. I was not aware that I was intruding on another's privacy. I will see myself ou—"

"Leaving so soon?" the Oracle asked innocuously. "After you have traveled so very far at my behest? This simply will not do."

Falcom made a nervous swallow, nodding.

The Oracle moved her attention to Relera. "Ah, but perhaps it _would_ be best to allow our host another chance to prepare for her guests that she has so rudely slighted. I will allow this lack of respect…this time."

"You barely gave me even a minute to get dressed!" Relera shouted. Then, she closed her eyes for a moment, clearing her throat. When she looked back up, she had a pleasant smile on her face. "I mean, of course. I am a rude hostess, ha ha ha. If you will excuse me, I will take but a moment to make myself more presentable to my guests." She turned to walk away, her posture as dignified as it could be, given the circumstances.

Then, several steps later, her towel fell away to the ground with a soft thump. She simply stood there a moment, her back facing the others, before silently balling her fists and continuing onward with nothing to cover her. The door to her bedroom did not slam when she reached it and closed it behind her.

There was little doubt that Falcom's cheeks were glowing red – she could practically feel the heat from them as she stared down the empty hall, not quite certain that her eyes hadn't deceived her. She blinked several times before saying, "I saw you move your fingers. Did you…?"

For a third time that night, her question went unanswered.


	8. Not Quite Hyper Devotion Edition

"Whaddya mean 'no money, no service?!' Haven't you ever heard of the magic charity fairy that gives free games to people who do stuff for free?!"

Neptune looked about ready to kick someone angrily in the shin, just barely being held back by the combined efforts of Noire and Blanc.

Vert gave a nervous chuckle and made her most elegant bow, putting on what Blanc often called the 'damage control' smile. "Ah. Please excuse us. We were unaware that this was not a celebration of giving freely unto others, as the good grace of the Goddess wills."

The man blocking the entrance to one of several designated festivity-filled fairgrounds in the city crossed his meaty arms, a bored look on his face. "Yeah, yeah. Buncha freeloaders, what else is new? Get a job."

Something about those last words stung each of the CPUs to the core – Neptune even ceased in her struggling and allowed herself to be unhanded.

"Hey, if you don't mind, there are others with _money_ lookin' to get in. So _move it_."

Vert made another hasty bow, giving her sincerest apologies before the group of goddesses hurried away, the line behind them resuming its normal flow.

A groan came from Neptune once they had gotten out of earshot of the bouncer-sized man. "Bawwwww. Stupid fathead meanie, and a bunch of other words I can't say in front of kids!" She kicked at the sidewalk, her shoe catching against the rough surface and causing her to fall to a knee. " _Bawwwwwww!_ "

"Good grief, Neptune," Noire said as she helped the girl to her feet. "Some might say that you haven't grown a bit in all these years."

Neptune suddenly spun around, giving a wink and a thumbs up. "Hey! I can't help it if Planeptune knows that small is justice!"

A sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if that's the only reason you have any followers. But, then again, they'd all be in Lowee, if that was the case."

"Care to say that last part a little louder?" Blanc asked, her tone a _little_ more menacing than usual.

Before Noire could reply, Neptune's laughter filled the air. "Oh, come on, Blanny Blanc! The flat club's got _way_ cooler fans than all the others!"

"If you say so."

Silence fell over the party as they continued down the sidewalk. There was no destination in mind, but inaction seemed somehow inappropriate. Surely they would stumble upon an event marker, right? At least, that was Neptune's line of thought – she had no idea what the others were thinking, their gazes contemplating their shoes or staring ahead at nothing in particular. The sights of the city met their eyes, a maze of streets, storefronts, and towering complexes in varying states of upkeep, but they paid the world little mind. Leanbox's capital was a teeming metropolis filled with modern marvels of architecture and a thousand wonderful secrets to discover – to those who belonged in it.

 _Get a job._

The irony of it hurt the worst.

 _('o≧д≦_ _)o_ _Neptune, you need to learn how to be a proper goddess! Neptune, PLEASE try to do at least a little work today! Neptune, Nepgear tells me that you made her do all of the chores and all of the paperwork for last week! Neptune! NEPTUNE!_

Okay, so maybe it wasn't _too_ off the mark. But, still…

"Say, Neptune…" Blanc began.

She was interrupted by Noire. "Sh! Do you hear that?"

"…Aw, man! Is every game store in the _city_ shut down?" The voice came from a group ahead.

"This is stupid. We missed the start of the Festival because of this crap."

"Yeah. We've been looking for hours, Jake. Let's go back to the hotel already."

"Nuh-uh! I'm not quitting until I've got a legit copy of _Hyperdevotion Noire Re;Birth HD Remaster: Ultra Devotion Edition_ in my hands! I know Leanbox is supposed to have all _kinds_ of super rare games still in stock!"

Loitering by a storefront could be found an ordinary group of teenagers. The sign over top read " _SUPER GAME RINBOKKUSU WORLD_ " in an eye-catching font, although the words were no longer lit with color as they should have been. Indeed, the store appeared to be more than just closed – while an array of game-related products and advertisements were still on display, the shadowy interior consisted of row upon row of empty shelves. A few bits of graffiti were present on the shop's windows, which stood in odd contrast to the otherwise respectable commercial district it was within.

 _G00d r1ddanc31! L3anb0x 43v3r!11!_

 _Tunnel Snakes Rule! ASIC Drools!_

 _THROWING OUT THE TRASH_

 _gg no re  
_

"Wait a second. That's the game that comes with one of those pillow things, isn't it? Gross."

As the rest of the group erupted into laughs, Jake attempted to refute the girl's comment. "Y-You don't understand! It's the last game they made about her! _Ever!_ "

"What a loser," said one of the other boys. "You gonna make sweet love to your virtual girlfriend, nerd?"

Jake hands were clenching into fists by this point, his face a seething red. "She's not _virtual!_ I know she was real! You gotta believe me!"

"Funny. That girl over there sure does look a lot like her. I wonder how much they paid her to dress up for losers like you."

The party turned to view the person in question, who seemed to be imitating a deer in headlights. The girls standing next to her all had amused expressions on their faces.

"Oh man!" Jake ran off toward her at top speed, practically leaving a cloud of dust behind. " _LADY NOIRE!_ "

The group of girls regarded him with curiosity as he approached. The spiky-haired one let out a giggle. "Looks like you've got a convert already, Noire."

Jake was panting heavily when he came to a stop, but he simply couldn't wait until he had enough air to form coherent sentences. "Lady Noire…I'm like…totally your biggest fan…so if you could just…sign my Lastation Anima…I'd be _so happy holy crap_."

The one dressed in Noire's favorite royal attire gave him a confident smile and took both the handheld console and pen from his trembling hands. "Well, I _do_ like to make my fans happy." She took a moment to sign the limited edition device's white exterior with an exaggerated flourish. "Here you go."

Jake nearly dropped the now-priceless console as it was handed back to him. "Um…um…um…thank you!" He then sprinted away to his gathered friends, screaming his joy at the top of his lungs. " _WOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOOOO!_ "

The CPU of Lastation heard a sniffle come from beside her. "He…he didn't even give the time of day to little ol' Nep…"

Noire laughed at her pouting. "Face it, Neptune – when it comes to popularity, I'm number one."

"Most popular in the doujinshi section, anyway," Blanc added with a snicker.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" Noire snapped.

"Oh. My apologies," said Blanc. "I thought you liked to make your fans happy."

"Well, I…" Noire trailed off, her eyes casting to the side. She grumbled something unintelligible beneath her breath before stomping away, her cheeks having turned a little red. "Whatever. Let's go."

Neptune charged ahead of Noire's lead, having suddenly rebounded from her fanboy-induced depression. " _Onward!_ "

* * *

"I'm tired."

The words had come from Neptune.

"And hungry."

Noire's brow clenched. It occurred to her that she wasn't even sure if CPUs needed to eat to survive. The pangs coming from her own stomach seemed to provide an answer – she'd been doing her best to ignore them for a while now. At the very least, they did a decent job of distracting her from the thoughts that were starting to cloud her mind.

"Can we stop yet, Nowa?"

It took effort for Noire to not snap at the girl. Where had this sudden anger come from? She halted mid-stride, spinning around on one heel to face the rest of the group. Her other foot stepped down with a sharp _click_. "Stop where, Neptune?"

"Um…I dunno. A hotel, I guess."

"Right. And how do you expect us to pay for our stay _this_ time?"

"Mmm…" Neptune gave a shrug. "Bison Bucks?"

"It does appear that our funds are rather limited at the moment," said Vert. "We find ourselves in quite the unfortunate situation." A chuckle came from her. "Ah, but I am sure that we will find our way out just as quickly. After all, many an adventurer has found themselves in the same predicament, yes?"

"It's not that easy, Vert." Blanc's words were barely audible. They left the party in silence.

Noire let her gaze meet each of the others' in turn – Vert's uncomfortable aside glance, Neptune's heavy, weary eyes, and Blanc's unreadable wall. They had spent the last several hours doing…what, exactly? Searching for clues? Surveying the city? Planning their next move?

 _No. It was nothing so glamorous._

"We're lost, aren't we?"

Vert's eyes lit up as she replied, "But we know we are within Leanbox, do we not?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

Silence. Again. Noire waited for another response, finding that her breaths were coming with difficulty, her gaze continuing its manic search for answers. There were none to be found among the faces before her. The goddess let out a long sigh – but before she could speak her mind, Blanc said it for her.

"We don't have anywhere to stay." There it was. They were penniless. Directionless. Hopeless. There would be no answers this night. No progress toward a lofty goal. No games, no fun – not even a blanket to warm them. "We'll have to find shelter."

Noire half-expected someone to protest this statement, but when no further words came, she managed to force her throat to swallow before nodding. "Alright. A night under the stars, it is, then."

 _But no stars are to be found on this long, long night._

Soon enough, they had managed to put their heads together to get some idea of what they were looking for. Vert's memory of her hometown proved to be nearly useless in this strange new Leanbox, yet Blanc seemed to practically possess a map in her head. Neptune even managed to regain some of her enthusiasm as their wandering began anew, reigniting the spark within their weary hearts. Noire found herself glad to finally have a real goal to pursue – and, she admitted to herself, eager to run away from the tension in the group as fast as possible.

But none of them noticed the fifth shadow trailing behind them, of course. Not even †Green Heart† could pass a spot check when preoccupied by the onset of starvation.

* * *

"Ah…reduced to such dire straits, we are!" Vert pressed the back of a hand to her forehead in a melodramatic gesture. "However shall we cope without the luxury of a room full of limited edition figurines to keep us company through the night?"

Neptune, meanwhile, seemed to be slumped against a wall, bawling her eyes out. " _Wahhhhhhhhh!_ Oh, Gear! I miss ya already, little sis!" She wiped away a tear with her sleeve before suddenly jumping to her feet. "Wait! I know! It's just like a camping trip, isn't it? Oh! Oh!" She started bouncing on her feet with renewed energy. "When can we start roasting marshmallows and sing a happy campfire song?!"

Vert gave a nervous little chuckle. "Unfortunately, it appears that marshmallows…or food in general…may be out of our reach at the present moment in time."

A silence came over the area, not counting the ever-present sounds of the city around them. After spending some time out in the wilderness of Leanbox, the lack of quiet within the capital was nearly maddening in comparison. Noire made a tiny sigh to herself, pulling her arms a little tighter around her knees to bring them to her chin. She knew she was utterly exhausted both from exertion and hunger – and she knew that sleep would become even more of a precious resource than it already was in the near future.

 _Is this what it's going to be like from now on?_

She lifted her head – a task that nearly managed to demand too much energy – to bring her the sight of one of the brick walls that made up the crevice the CPUs now called home. Their claimed scrap of land was a roughly triangular area left undeveloped between several other buildings deep within the city. One exit was blocked by a chain link fence, appearing to lead out to a larger empty plot that lacked illumination of any sort. Another led to a street devoid of activity, a line of closed storefronts visible on the other side. The third ended several feet away at a locked door that seemed to be a fire exit. A single tree was planted within a grassy circle at the center of the area. This pleasantry was counterbalanced by a dumpster placed along one wall – an unpleasant smell occasionally made it to one's nose. Perhaps there would eventually be an awkward encounter with the owner of said dumpster, although Blanc had assured them that such a thing would not come to pass.

 _I can't believe this. What would the people of Gamindustri think if they saw their goddesses now?_

Another question filled her mind, seemingly of its own accord. _How could the world treat us like this? Long have I considered this question. There is no acceptable answer. But what, then, is the acceptable punishment for such transgressions against divinity?_

Noire's eyes blinked instinctively when an irritating blurriness came to them. She blinked again, this time in surprise, when she reached up to feel a tear on her cheek. Her hand clenched into a shaky fist, her brow furrowing with a sudden fury. Such an emotion almost felt…alien. When had this budding hatred been planted within her? She had nothing against humankind as a whole, after all.

 _\\(v_v*)_ _Historical precedence demonstrates that a vengeful goddess will quickly find herself dwindling into nothingness as her followers turn away. It is the duty of a CPU to keep her followers happy, and in turn, receive the gift of their happiness. Remember! Shares are your lifeblood! I will be VERY disappointed in you if you manage to forget this basic fact once again!_

Or so Histoire had told them – multiple times, in fact, typically after one of the CPUs managed to get into an argument with her Basilicom's Parliament.

 _Get it together, Noire. There's no use in feeling sorry for yourself. We got ourselves into this, and we can get out of it. Somehow. I just have to think…_

But no solution sprung itself at her. What were they to do? She hadn't the faintest idea of how normal people – her subjects – managed to live day by day, let alone how to scrounge out an existence from the very bottom of society. She was left without her home, her daily schedule, her fleet of servants, her wardrobe, her sewing equipment…her sister…

Another tear rolled down onto her cheek, which she practically clawed at in frustration. The urge to scream and thrash about was a compelling one, but she could never let herself be reduced to such a state. No one wanted their nation to be ruled and protected by a crybaby.

"You should sleep."

Noire turned her head to see Blanc standing there, just barely visible in the shadowy clearing. The CPU of Lastation narrowed her eyes threateningly. "So should you."

Blanc's expression remained unchanging as a moment passed. Was she calculating the exact response to use? What was her angle here? The goddesses of Lastation and Lowee had no reason or desire to be on friendly terms, as it was. "If you don't sleep, you'll be useless. And you'll still be a mouth to feed regardless of whether you can pull your weight."

A definite sting was felt from that remark. Noire didn't let up her glare as she replied, "Fine."

Blanc continued to stare for another moment, but she said nothing else before stepping away to her bed, which was little more than a sheet of discarded cardboard retrieved in much the same way Neptune had originally found her favorite wooden katana.

Noire let out a breath, forcing herself to relax. Why had her first instinct been to react defensively? She didn't particularly _dislike_ Blanc, although, really, the two had hardly even taken the time to speak until the CPUs had set upon this wayward journey. Her mind wandered to the discussion she'd had with Blanc in the garden in Harbor Oak – a sunlit paradise in comparison to the current locale.

 _Had that been the first real conversation I'd ever had with her?_

The thought caused a shiver to go through Noire for reasons she couldn't quite explain.


	9. A Night on the Town

" _No-wa-ru!_ Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!"

The form of a girl upon the ground seemed to flinch, her nose giving a snort before resuming a quiet, unsteady wheeze.

" _OI!_ Noire!"

A low groan could be heard before the girl's body slowly unfurled. She halted in the midst of a stretch, the wince visible on her face making it obvious that she hadn't had the best night's sleep. Another groan came from her, louder this time.

"My, my. I had heard the rumors that Lastation's CPU was a beast to be feared in the morning, but…"

Awareness came with the greatest of reluctance to Noire. Her entire body felt as if it had been left in a tumble dryer for several hours. Every motion brought with it a flash of soreness, but remaining motionless caused a dull ache to persist, which was just as intolerable. Typically, she only found herself in such a state after a difficult battle, perhaps against another CPU – and there was no better cure than a long, relaxing soak in the bath.

Of course, there was no bath in sight when the goddess' eyes fluttered open. A wave of emotions crashed over her without warning, bringing a familiar blurriness to her vision and a terrible pressure to her head. In the next moment, she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down a painful swallow. She pushed herself to a sitting position, ignoring the protests from her nervous system as she brought her hands up to wipe her eyes clean.

"Here," said Blanc. "It's for you."

Noire blinked as Blanc leaned down to place something in front of her. "Th-Thanks, but I don't—"

" _Take it,_ " Blanc whispered, having moved her head closed to Noire's ear. The CPU of Lowee rose back up, giving Noire a seemingly blank look before stepping away.

Noire had to strain her eyes to make out just what Blanc's gift was. It was still quite dark in the CPUs' hideout. In fact, it seemed as if the night had never passed.

 _A bottle?_

The surface of the bottle was smooth – plastic. Something sloshed inside of it when it was lifted. After some effort, Noire managed to open the top with a few twists of the hand, and she brought the bottle to her lips.

 _Water._

It was lukewarm, but she gulped it down as if it was a delicious cream soda all the same. One of the first steps of her morning routine had always been to get a glass of cold water – had Blanc known that?

Better question – where had she gotten the bottle?

Noire replaced the bottle's top before rising to her feet. The enormity of the situation threatened to push her right back down, but she shrugged it off with the same iron will she applied to her work ethic. A whole world was out there, waiting to be saved from some unknown threat, and it was up to _her_ to bring this motley crew of goddesses up to snuff before it was too late.

* * *

The gang of CPUs had decided that splitting up was the best strategy in order to cover the most ground, but they had all been given a single task to focus on – learning as much about this world as possible. Thus, they would flex their information-gathering muscles, as underused as they might have been.

Noire had hardly complained about being forced to go out alone, even as some part of her was trembling at the idea. At this point in her outing, her pep was starting to fade, her knees aching as if belonging to the body of an old maid. She hadn't exactly been getting the most exercise over the last few months, had she? Certainly, she wasn't as fit as she had been during the old days of constant conflict. She shook her head, narrowing her eyes as she hurried onward, arms swinging deliberately with each step upon the sidewalk.

 _Forward march!_

One, two, one, two, one, two, one, two…

Where she was hurrying to, she had no idea. Or, rather, she had _some_ idea, but each one she had tried thus far on this sortie had turned out to be a bust. The Basilicom had been completely closed to unauthorized visitors, its front door staffed with more than a few heavily armed guards. The Guild was likewise unavailable, not being open to conduct public business during a holiday. Simply finding her way around the city was proving to be daunting enough, not to mention her limited funds causing entry to be barred to so much. Of course, talk was cheap, but stopping to ask questions almost universally just gave her some awkward looks, and sometimes even a few harsh words that hardly seemed deserved.

 _CPU? Uh, you mean, like, a computer, right?_

 _The goddess of Leanbox? Ahah…I'm afraid the only goddess I know of is THE Goddess. If you'll excuse me…_

 _Deary me. Does your mother let you strut around like a harlot in that getup, young lady? The nerve! I ought to report you for indecent exposure!_

 _What, you got those twin-tails pulled up too tight or somethin'? Look, I only deal with girls that don't need to go under the knife twenty times to fix that horseface, you know what I'm sayin', dollface?_

Only the tiniest scraps of information had been collected thus far, leaving Noire with far more questions than answers. She was quickly realizing that she would make a poor detective if for some reason she ever stopped being a CPU. Admittedly, her conspicuous appearance wasn't doing her any favors, but, at the same time, she was surprised by how few people had recognized her thus far. They seemed more concerned with being stunned by the stylishness of her outfit than anything. The number of raised eyebrows being thrown her way was growing uncomfortable, even for her.

Surely she had been through worse before, though – like introducing Uni to the Basilicom. Those first few weeks had been filled with more awkward conversations than the average romcom. How hard could detective work be compared to _that?_

 _Green, green, green, and more green. If somebody pinches me, they're going to regret it._

"Why's she in a costume? Is it Halloween?"

"Oh. She must be one of those…"

Noire's ears just happened to pick up on a conversation nearby. She turned to spot a typical family – mother, father, and daughter, who must've been around six or seven – eating together at a table outside a restaurant. They stared back at her, uncertainty in their eyes.

The father placed a hand on his daughter's arm as if to reassure her. "Don't look at her, Alisa. You don't want to grow up to be like that."

"But why not? She's pretty. I wanna be pretty when I grow up, too."

"Because I said so, alright?"

The goddess' gaze narrowed into a glare for a moment before she continued onward, deciding that it wasn't worth getting into an argument so publically.

" _One of those," eh?_

Eventually, she stopped upon reaching a street corner, her progression being blocked by a startlingly red "DON'T WALK" light and a busy procession of cars taking their time rolling down the road.

"Life has a funny way of putting up roadblocks, does it not?"

It took a moment for Noire to realize that she was being spoken to. Standing next to her was a man dressed in a slim business suit, which lacked in distinct features, yet provided a sense of dignity and wealth all the same. Of course, even such a nondescript attire still stuck out among the revelers crowding around them. If his clothing was not enough to distinguish him, then his facial features would suffice, possessing a gaze sharp and narrow enough to invite comparisons to a hawk.

"I guess it does," said Noire. "Especially when you have somewhere important to be."

"Hm." Incidentally, the man happened to be taller than the girl he was speaking to. The scrutinizing look he was giving her was not a comfortable one. "I noticed that you were in quite the hurry, stomping down the sidewalk as you were. To which important place might you be headed, if I may ask?"

"Ah…" A thousand possible answers popped into Noire's mind, but not one escaped her lips.

The man gave a light chuckle. "Forgive me. There is no need to answer if you do not wish to."

Noire only realized that she was staring open-mouthed at him when the crowd started to shift around them. She quickly snapped out of her daze, moving along with the flow across the street, where vehicular traffic was now halted. By the time she had reached the next sidewalk, she had lost sight of the man – had he rushed on ahead? She couldn't even explain why, but she began to push and shove her forward way through the crowd. Her skill at such a maneuver was clumsy at best, eliciting a number of angry comments, each of which she hardly took a moment to utter a quick apology for. Her eyes darted about, her hopes sinking with every foot she accidentally stepped upon—

 _There!_

Moving along with both hands within pockets, gaze tilted slightly downward, could be seen that overdressed man, having cleared the thicker portion of the crowd. The urge to rush after him was powerful indeed, but the more cautious side of Noire told her to hang back. She followed for a time, and their path became a winding one through the city, seemingly without rhyme or reason.

 _Oh, just talk to him already!_

Sighing to herself, Noire finally decided to shorten the gap between them. She attempted to call out to him, but the words choked in her throat.

 _You're not a scared little girl, are you?_

"Of course I'm not!"

"Eh? Is…something the matter, miss?"

Noire nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, barely having registered that she'd stomped her foot and balled her fists as if throwing a tantrum. She moved her gaze up – and then up a little further – to see that familiar man standing there. It was easy to feel the heat building within her cheeks. She put on her best smile, making an uneasy laugh. "Ahahah…no, nothing's the matter. Nothing at all."

The man stared for a moment, his gaze obviously questioning. "I…see." He turned as if to walk away.

 _Wait!_

Her mind screamed the word, but her efforts were wasted, her voice refusing to comply. She stood there panting, hands placed on her knees, suddenly feeling as if it was hard to draw breath.

 _What's wrong with you?_

There were a lot of potential replies she could make to that thought – first and foremost on her mind was the fact that she was referring to herself in second person.

But there was no time for self-reflection. Her mark was getting away at the incredible speed of a power walk. She resumed her slow chase, an act that was more akin to stalking than she wanted to admit. Readying herself for any attempts at evasion by her target, she kept at what she assumed was a preferable distance for the task at hand.

To her surprise – and relief – it turned out that she wouldn't need to follow much further. The man took a sudden detour into one of the many storefronts lining the streets.

"'Green Pasture Brews, home of Leanbox's finest green tea since 20XX,'" Noire mouthed, reading the sign above the set of double glass doors. "Huh."

She pushed her way inside to be greeted by a scent possessing such a power of invigoration that, somehow, she felt herself lose just a little of the tension in her shoulders. The interior was lit warmly with shades of red and brown, serving as a welcome contrast to the glaring greenness outside. Ah, and the quietness – as soon as the door had shut behind Noire, the din of the city had faded to a murmur barely noticeable over the tinny sound of whatever radio hit was playing over the speakers inside. For the first time since setting foot in this land, she felt a little sliver of familiarity wash over her.

She had the sneaking suspicion that Blanc spent a lot of time in places like this.

By the time Noire remembered why she had happened upon this establishment, her mark had made his way over to a table, where several other finely dressed men of foreign descent could be found. The sight of tea and snacks laid out on their table caused Noire's stomach to rumble – she hadn't eaten since before her arrival in this world, had she? For some reason, she was finding it difficult to recall the events of the past few days.

Noire's eyes moved over to the front counter and the goods on display there, feeling herself fill with envy far greener than any tea that may have been present. Of course, stepping up to the register would've been foolhardy – she didn't have the funds to purchase so much as a piece of bubblegum at the moment. Sighing, she forced herself to move to a table in the far corner of the room, hopefully away from prying eyes and ears, where she would do a bit of prying of her own. Luckily, the teahouse was fairly crowded at the moment, providing a bit of cover for her.

"…not quite certain that it is wise to be here at this time. The lands of Gamindustri are united, of course, but they have sometimes failed to sing in perfect harmony. There is a dissonant – but small – voice in this land that does not always wish good tidings to its fellow citizens from across the water."

"Eh? Afraid of a few Leanboxers, are you? Don't be ridiculous."

Noire perked up as she made her way across the floor, doing her best not to actually look at what was clearly a few businessmen having a meeting.

"Ah…I am not afraid of personal injury, of course. It is just that this may not be a… _politically expedient_ part of the year for this kind of activity. This…. _Festival of the Union_ should serve as a reminder that we are all followers of the Goddess, but the vocal minority has a habit of growing bolder during this period."

There was a gruff laugh audible behind Noire. She didn't even need to look to picture the chortling man waving his hand as if such a gesture could wave all problems away. "Don't worry about that, my friend. The LEPD may not be quite as well-funded as Lastation's finest, but you can believe that they will be quick to _stomp_ any revelers who have a little too much of the purple punch."

Another one of those sneaking suspicions struck Noire – this one told her that this deep-voiced "friend" had a habit of smoking cigars. There was no way to confirm this, though, as the teahouse was a smoking-free establishment.

"Of course." A third voice was speaking. "We cannot let petty political concerns stop us from conducting legitimate business across the four lands of the Union. The protestors will see that they cannot stop the inevitable…eventually."

Finally, Noire made it over to the table she had decided upon. She pulled out a chair from beneath the table, a sense of trepidation going through her as she sat down – a sensation that immediately faded when she sank further into the cushion. She barely had the presence of mind to cross her legs as her head lolled against the backrest, a wave of fatigue crashing down upon her with irresistible force.

"…surrounds herself with a nest of vipers. It appears that the approach will be difficult."

"Oh, come on. You worry too much, Ganache. You really think those yellow-backed bureaucrats in the Parliament will be any tougher than what _we_ deal with day to day? I don't think so."

Noire suddenly perked up, chiding herself for nearly having drifted off in the middle of important work. _Ganache?_ She knew she'd recognized that smug – and admittedly handsome – mug from somewhere. But what was a member of her Basilicom's staff doing here? A part of her wanted to step right over there and remind him in no subtle words that she was his boss, but now was hardly the time for that. Passivity was crucial for the time being. If the CPUs managed to get into trouble, that was it – game over.

 _Easier said than done, eh, Blanc?_

"Approaching through the official process seems unfavorable. Even if we were to be heard, it is likely that any request would remain unanswered in an impressively idle stack of similar requests."

"Yes. The Duchess of Leanbox is well known for her fanciful interpretation of the pocket veto. She prefers prancing around the parks of Leanbox and sipping fine wine to spending time in the Duchess' chair."

"Maybe her 'amnesia' is to blame? Ah, but how is one to remember what one's job title is? It is so much work! Off to the bathhouse I go! Do not worry, Leanbox – I am sure I will remember eventually!"

A round of laughter followed this remark.

"Yes, well, I must admit that I find this to be an unusual situation. Perhaps a direct approach would be best?"

"How 'direct' are we talking? I'm sure she'd be quick to wave off anyone in a suit and tie."

And so the discussion went, the trio scheming various legally questionable methods to bother the Duchess of Leanbox with whatever business was at hand. Something about tariffs on overseas processor units or some such. Noire had to admit that, while some of the terminology they were beginning to rattle off was vaguely familiar, most of it was going right over her head. Speaking of which, her head had been moving closer and closer to the table, until her cheek was finally resting upon her arms. She was so very tired – she needed but a moment to relax and recover.

* * *

"E-Excuse me, miss."

"Neptune…stop clinging to me…"

"Miss? I'm afraid that you'll have to move. We're rather busy, and, um, we have people waiting for an open table, so…"

Noire lifted her head with some reluctance. Her eyes were bleary as she blinked, not quite able to focus her vision. A mighty yawn suddenly came upon her, which she quickly moved to hide with a hand. Her eyes eventually found the woman standing over her.

"Eh?"

Realization came in several distinct but rapid stages. The CPU practically jumped out of her chair, nearly knocking the poor woman next to her out of the way.

 _Not again!_

Uni had commented several times about her sister's habit of falling asleep at the desk, PC still open to whatever pertinent files had been the subject of the previous day's work. Each time, Noire had reacted with a potent mix of annoyance and mortification. Of _course_ she could handle whatever Lastation needed her for. She just needed to do better…to work just a little harder.

She could practically hear one of Uni's little sighs of pity. Such a tiny sound somehow managed to be one of the worst things in the world.

Well – of one world, at least.

Noire's flight from the teahouse was a total blur, and it was likely that she preferred it that way. She had enough embarrassing memories to haunt her without adding yet another to the pile. Her exit from autopilot came suddenly and without provocation several blocks away. She nearly tripped mid-stride, the switch in awareness proving to be both subtle and startling.

The next sensation to hit her was panic as a dozen thoughts struck at once.

 _How long was I out?_

 _I can't believe…just when I may have had a lead…_

 _I hope the others managed to do better._

 _I need to get back to them!_

There was just one problem, one that she had suspected would rear its head somewhere around this time – she had absolutely no idea where she was. How was she supposed to find their meeting place ever again? Even if she'd had a map or – goddesses forbid – a GPS, she doubted she could point out where it was supposed to be.

She could swear that she heard one of those little sighs from Uni right about then.

Noire's hands were clenching and unclenching, before finally, her panic exploded into frustration. "Oh, fine! This is how it's going to be, huh? Then I'll just keep looking and looking until I find them! How hard can it be?!"

At the very least, she knew what the neighborhood around their "hideout" looked like – dirty, dark, and dingy, largely devoid of the crowds interested in the festivities. It was hardly on her list of top one hundred places to visit, but there weren't exactly many other spots a group of flat broke girls could crash. Yet, there was no clue as to which direction she should begin to head. The streets seemed to stretch longer before her, the myriad of stoplights, signs, and streetlamps fading into a dull blur.

"Noire."

The Noire in question spun on her heel and then nearly jumped out of her skin when she spotted a certain someone standing just a few feet away. "Blanc?! Ah…hah…hah…what a funny coincidence, running into you just now. I-It's funny, so I'm laughing…a-and…"

Blanc's expression remained flat – if she was convinced by the Lastation CPU's forced smile and laughter, there was no way to tell. "Follow me."

The phrasing was terse, but it said all that needed to be stated. Noire deflated with a defeated sigh as she complied, fighting off the urge to reach out for Blanc's hand to be guided like a child through the crowds.

 _How had she known where to find me? Did she know I was lost?_

Those questions would remain unanswered. By the time Noire had worked up the nerve to ask them, she was back in slightly more familiar territory.

"No- _wa_ -ru! Where've ya been? We've been waiting _aaaaages!_ We got snacks!"

 _Speaking of familiar…_

Another quiet sigh escaped Noire's lips. Perhaps it was only the hundredth of several thousand to come.


	10. Goddesses of Old

"Greetings from Lastation, Duchess of Leanbox. How nice of you to answer for once."

Relera didn't bother hiding her scowl. In fact, she hoped it was very obvious on the webcam feed. She knew it was petty, but she didn't care.

"I would at least ask you to dress appropriately when addressing your peers. Some may be impressed by the image of the leader of Leanbox wearing nightclothes, but I am not."

 _Boo-hoo. You're just pissed that you're a flatty._ The thought almost slipped from her mouth. She was glad that she held her tongue – not because it might get her into trouble, but because it was a weak insult considering who she was speaking with. Plus, the last dozen or so times they'd sparred with words, Relera hadn't exactly come out the victor. Taking a moment to rub her eyes, she replied, "Kei, it's the fortieth hour here. Human beings need to sleep, you know."

"Spare me the excuses. Truly, it is a wonder that Leanbox has not collapsed from its collective indolence."

That gave Relera pause. Kei had never been the nicest individual, but she seemed extra-cranky tonight. Normally she at least managed to maintain some level of professional decency. "So what did you call about this time? Driving some more Leanbox corporations out of business? Spending even more on 'defense' research? Cracking down even harder on software piracy? Or did you just want to continue your rant about how the metric system is vastly superior in every way?"

"I admit that I am disappointed – but not surprised – that the metric system has not yet been wholly adopted within Leanbox's public schools. It would certainly remove the need to retrain scientists and engineers to use more sensible units." The slightest hint of a smile flickered onto Kei's face. "But, no, I would not call simply to waste both of our time. A troubling matter has recently been brought to my attention."

A cold chill went down Relera's spine. It was never a good thing when Kei said that, because it was _always_ an understatement. It was then that Relera noticed that Kei's hair looked a little less well-kempt than usual. She really had been busy, hadn't she? Relera propped her elbows on the desk, raising her hands to her chin. "Go on."

Kei seemed almost taken aback by the lack of further quips. "To business, then. You will hopefully manage to recall our previous discussion about the attempted hacking of Lastation's servers."

Relera blinked. "What? Of course I remember." She didn't add that representatives of the _zaibatsu_ of Lastation tended to bug her about this and that almost every single day to jog her memory. She'd already forgotten the names of the latest trio of suited goons to stop for a visit at the Basilicom. She was starting to get the feeling that a business trip to Leanbox was Lastation's idea of a vacation.

Kei merely gave her a brief look before continuing. "I have been informed of three key points since then. One: the target of the attack was not the Lastation Basilicom itself, but the Avenir Corporation's local servers. Two: the attack was not wholly unsuccessful, and the extent of the damage is still being evaluated. Three: the source of this attack is still not known, but it was confirmed to be performed through servers within Leanbox's Basilicom."

That chill came back with a vengeance. Relera's gaze became fixated on the screen. "So you think I'm responsible?"

"I would not rule it out as a possibility. Still, the list of suspects is quite long. You can rest assured that you are near the bottom end of 'suspicious.'"

Relera lowered her arms, leaning back in her seat. "Gee. Talk about a back-handed compliment." Despite her words, she felt a wave of relief go through her. The last thing she needed on her plate was a criminal investigation.

Kei's tiny grin made another appearance. "Do not become too comfortable. I will be asking for your assistance in the search for this mystery hacker."

The Duchess of Leanbox lurched forward, pressing her face close to the screen. "What? Why?"

The smile fell. "Surely this does not require explanation? The servers of your Basilicom were involved in the attack. Are you not alarmed by the idea that the devices you use every day may be under the control of a malicious third party right now?"

Of course Relera knew it was bad. She wasn't _that_ dumb, as little as she did to prove otherwise.

"If you wish to simply ignore the problem, then I cannot force you to address it. You are, after all, my peer, and my authority does not supersede your own. However, I would strongly warn you against pretending that issues of national security do not exist. I would also warn you that, while the threat of impeachment may not alarm you, the wrath of the Goddess is very real."

Kei could read her like an open book. If there was one thing that scared Relera, it was the idea of the Goddess finally snapping and making good on her promises to banish the Duchess to the Graveyard. She had honest-to-goodness nightmares about what that would be like. Relera took a moment to press her forehead to the desk, letting out an audible sigh. She then lifted her head, and, brushing aside her hair, asked, "Alright. So where do I start?"

"Your enthusiasm is always appreciated."

Relera shot her an annoyed look in response.

"Perhaps we should first begin by refreshing your knowledge on the Avenir Corpor—" Kei's gaze moved slightly downward as an upbeat jingle sounded from the speakers. "Ah. It appears that someone is joining the call."

Relera raised a brow at this development. Kei was typically the only person she knew who'd expect to conduct business during a holiday – or holi _night_ , as it were. Only six people in the world were authorized to join this channel, and two of them were already on it. Relera crossed her fingers and prayed to the Goddess that it wouldn't be Her Holiness. Then again, the last time She had directly addressed them had been…how long ago?

"Greetings, Natalia-san, Jinguji-san."

The Duchess of Leanbox let out a sigh of relief when the bright-eyed face appeared onscreen. "Hello, Histoire." She wished she could say "Histy," but she couldn't bear the consternating gaze Kei gave her whenever she used the nickname. It always did seem to make Histoire happy, though.

"Greetings to you, Histoire," Kei spoke. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Please pardon the interruption. I will explain in but a moment. Nishizawa-san will be joining shortly—" A chuckle suddenly came from Histoire. "Ah. Natalia-san. I must apologize for you having been woken at an inopportune hour."

Relera waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I think I'm getting used to it at this point."

True to Histoire's word, another face soon appeared on the call. The two of them were almost complete opposites, one seeming as youthful as could be, and the other being withered with age and stress.

"Greetings again, Nishizawa-san," said Histoire. "I am sorry for the short notice, but an urgent matter has been brought to our attention."

At least Histoire knew how to use the right adjective. The Duchess of Planeptune had always been an enigma to Relera – the fairy-like girl was apparently some kind of artificial being created through magic, and it definitely showed. It seemed almost unfair for Planeptune's state leader to be someone with eternal youth and unending drive, not to mention the strange powers that Histoire was supposedly capable of. Yet, while Histoire should've been the most frightening thing ever, she always managed to brighten the mood of a room. Maybe it was telling that the person who spent much of her time scolding others into shape was the one Relera enjoyed speaking with the most. Or maybe it was just because she was too damn cute. Even…no, _especially_ when she was mad.

The fourth member of the call gave a polite nod. "Greetings and salutations, everyone. I have just completed consultation with Histoire on a private line, and we have come to the conclusion that a certain matter should not remain clandestine any longer."

On the other hand, calling the Duchess of Lowee "cute" was a stretch. Certainly, it wasn't her fault – everyone got old eventually (Histoire notwithstanding). And no one could fault her for being devoted to her job. Mina Nishizawa had been a leader of Lowee for a very, very long time – since before Relera had been born, in fact. And, from the reports Relera had bothered to skim through, Lowee was at the top of the charts for the happiest land in the Union. The Old Maid of Lowee was not to be underestimated, even if the eyeglasses perched on her nose _did_ make her look like an ornery substitute teacher…

Mina cleared her throat before continuing. "The Mascot of Lowee has spoken. Or, to be perfectly forthright, it has been communicating for quite some time now. Its most recent proclamation is of potentially dire consequence to the safety of Gamindustri, if I may be so presumptuously disquieting."

…And if she had a habit of spending too much time in a thesaurus. Reading reports from Lowee was always… _educational_.

The Duchess of Lastation absorbed this news with an unchanging expression, but Relera could swear that Kei's gaze seemed to become just a little more piercing. "I will not pretend to be unoffended by having information about this Mascot kept from me, but I will concede the point. What message does it bring to us?"

"Ah…" Mina seemed to search for words, but found none as she lifted a hand to adjust her glasses.

Histoire decided to step in. She raised a finger, as she often did when in exposition mode. "Communication with the Mascot of Lowee has been cryptic at best. It speaks not in words, but in pulses of energy. It is possible that these emissions are being projected subconsciously – but of course, the details are a matter for another discussion. One day before the start of the current Festival, it emitted such a message. This one pointed to a forest within Leanbox." She lowered her finger. "I believe that you may be able to further elaborate on this matter, Natalia-san?"

It took a moment for Relera to realize that the baton had been passed to her. She moved a hand to her neck, clearing her throat. "I would assume that you are referring to the allegations of a meteor sighting near Harbor Oak, yes?"

"That is correct, Natalia-san."

The pride Relera felt at having kept up with the meeting was almost quashed by the amount of shame she felt for experiencing that pride. "Hm. From what has been reported, a meteor did indeed crash into the forest there. It's apparently quite a mess, but eyewitness reports are not always the most trustworthy. Of course, I could always march down there myself, yes?"

"That will not be necessary, Natalia-san."

Oof. Sandbagged. None of them even cracked a smile.

"And what of the reports regarding the four mysterious visitors to Leanbox?"

Relera blinked, processing what the fairy had just said. "Ah…I would say they're less 'reports' and more 'rumors' at the current point in time."

"Indeed. I would dare to say that it is but a false alarm."

That hadn't been Histoire speaking. In fact, that hadn't been Kei or Mina, either. All three of them bore expressions of surprise.

Relera didn't even need to look to know who was there. "You have begun to make a disturbing habit of ignoring the concept of locked doors, Oracle."

"A locked door is not a barrier to one such as I, Duchess of Leanbox. Perhaps you shall be conducting yourself as if I am always watching, hm?"

Now Relera whipped around her chair. "Voyeurism is in fact a crime in Leanbox, you must realize. If someone tells me that there's suggestive pictures of me on the Internet, I'll know who to blame, yes?"

Histoire made a quiet little cough. "Greetings, Your Reverence. How nice of you to join us."

"A…false alarm, Oracle?" Mina spoke, adjusting her glasses again. "Do you not consider the possibility that the goddesses of old have returned to be a vexing one?"

"I am well aware of the _vexing_ possibility, _Duchess_." On the Oracle's face was the closest thing to a glare Relera had ever seen her make. "It is an improbable one by all accounts."

Mina looked more than a little taken aback, hand placed on her glasses, her mouth agape. "But the Mascot—"

"Is unreliable. As Histoire has said, it is cryptic at best."

 _Pot, meet kettle_. But even Relera was not one to make a quip at such a time. She had cleared the path between the Oracle and the computer monitor by rolling away in her chair, lest she get caught in the crossfire.

Kei decided to add her two credits. "Oracle. I would remind you that the last time rumors of such potential consequence were ignored, the Union of Gamindustri was formed."

The room grew silent, but an unbearable strain was present in the air. Something had to break.

It was Kei who conceded first. "I apologize. I have overstepped the bounds of my authority."

The Oracle continued to stare at the screen for another moment before saying, "The matter has been looked into. Results indicate that there is no threat. This hypothesis has been disproven – let us move on."

Histoire made another subtle cough. "Ah…if there is nothing else to discuss, then I will be taking my leave."

"Y-Yes," Mina stammered. "I suppose this meeting is adjourned."

Kei's only input was a slight nod before the three of them left the call.

Relera felt her mouth tighten. She had never seen them back out of a meeting quite so quickly before. And, of course, they had left _her_ to deal with the source of the tension.

"Duchess."

She froze just as she was about to leave her seat.

"A word, if you would?"

Her teeth clenched a little harder, and she had to force her jaw to loosen before she could speak. "Yes, Oracle?"

"How much do you know about the goddesses of old?"

"You mean the DD, right? About as much as anyone else."


	11. So Grossly Incandescent

"Come on, Nowa! Catch me if you _caaaaan!_ "

"Hold…hold on, Neptune!" A sigh followed as Noire stopped in her tracks, allowing the hyperactive CPU of Planeptune to race ahead without her. "Good grief. It's not as if I'm here to play tag with her."

But yet, that was almost exactly why she was here in the midst of a merry crowd. Whether one sought a silly activity to enjoy with friends, a stomach-dropping ride sure to bring forth the adrenaline, or even just a relaxing soak in the lake, there was no end of potential entertainment in sight. And, of course, no celebration in the city of Leanbox would be complete without its world-renowned catering – creations made for those who sought to delight their taste buds with no heeding of the consequences that devouring these unhealthy treats could bring. Such delicacies were uncommon, if not outright banned, in many other places of the world, bringing forth many connoisseurs who wished to sate their desire for gluttony. All of this was held beneath the watchful gaze of the Tower, visible high above all else within the city.

Upon the suggestion of none other than Blanc, the CPUs had decided to take a much-needed break by revisiting the Festival that had previously denied them. Yet, entry to the wide open fairgrounds had been trivial now they were paying customers. Where Blanc had managed to acquire enough funds to cover all of their expenses, Noire had no idea. The regal goddess of Lastation was just glad that she wouldn't ever have to resort to dumpster diving – her mind instantly jumped away to something else whenever she went down _that_ train of thought.

Already, several fruitless days – or rather, twenty-four-hour periods in an endless night – of hunting for a lead had managed to pass by. It turned out that solving a mystery where one was not even aware of what the mystery was did not lend itself to being wrapped up easily. All they knew was that trouble was brewing somewhere, somehow – and that the responsibility of handling it fell solely upon their tiny shoulders. Why had they come so unprepared? They hadn't even bothered to discuss a way to get home, had they? As always, they had leapt headfirst into danger without even thinking of a plan.

 _Why do we let Neptune drag us around?_

The Neptune in question was already out of sight, having raced around the exterior of an indoor attraction that had caught their eye. Giving another sigh, Noire began to put one foot in front of another, certain that they'd bump into each other again by the decree of some goddess of fate who was no doubt having a good laugh. When Noire turned the corner, she was surprised to see that the entrance to the attraction was visible – almost every other place in the park was covered in long lines of people waiting for their turn to have fun. Neptune was nowhere to be found, likely already having entered. In fact, it seemed that Noire was the only person present as she stepped up to the doorway of the building, its walls covered in the same white, smooth metal as the Tower overlooking the city. The doors slid open to either side as she approached, allowing entry with little fuss.

And then they shut behind her, leaving her in total darkness.

Before Noire's eyes could attempt to adjust, a soft, violet-tinged hue faded into view. A moment of hesitation passed before Noire continued onward, noting the dim LEDs lining the corners of the hallway that seemed to endlessly stretch before her. Her arms flailed to either side when the floor suddenly began to move beneath her feet. When she managed to regain her balance, she realized that she was standing on some kind of conveyor belt, slowly carrying her forward of its own accord.

"I bid you welcome, denizen of Leanbox," came a female voice, echoing through the hallway.

Noire nearly jumped out of her skin as she searched for the source of the sound. Her panic only intensified when she realized that the entrance was no longer visible behind her, now being obscured by what may as well have been an empty abyss much like that in front. She had never thought of herself as claustrophobic, but the idea of those walls pressing in on either side was not a pleasant one.

"You have entered the Hall of the Goddess. Please relax and enjoy the ride. We sincerely hope that you will find it informative as a subject within the Goddess' domain. Your continued devotion is appreciated!"

The CPU pressed a hand to her chest and let out a breathy, nervous chuckle as she felt her pounding heart begin to slow to its normal pace. "Of course. It's just a prerecorded message."

Several seconds passed before an image became visible in the distance, slowly rendering into existence as if transitioning between slides in a digital presentation. The picture was large enough to fill the width and height of the hall ahead, but it was difficult to make out from such a distance.

"Long, long ago, the world was split into four lands – Planeptune, Lastation, Lowee, and Leanbox. Together, these lands were known simply as Gamindustri."

Now that Noire had drawn closer, she could discern that the picture was in fact a map of what must've been this dimension's Gamindustri, with each of the nations labelled and highlighted in their respective colors. Strangely, the depiction was flat, as if there was nothing beneath the surface of the ground.

Noire's frayed nerves finally managed to calm themselves as a slight smile formed on her face. Her fear was replaced with a warm sense of accomplishment. "Well. This is helpful. Maybe I can finally learn something worthwhile here."

The fuzzy, holographic image continued to draw closer, and Noire wondered if she would collide with it until it faded out of existence just as she came with arm's reach. Seconds later, a different image was projected in the distance in a manner similar to the first.

"Gamindustri was not a happy world – far from it, in fact," continued the disembodied guide. "Each of the four lands was ruled by a false goddess. These Decadent Devils competed against one another, putting their own interests ahead of those of their followers. They led their nations to one war after another, causing countless tragedies."

A romanticized, bloodless depiction of a massive battle upon a field could be seen. The sky was darkened by ominous clouds, nearly obscuring the hundreds of arrows and boulders flying through the air. Noire's eyes went wide at the scale on display – the number of participants shown was likely enough to fill an entire city of her own world. She could hardly even begin to fathom what such an event must've been like. The weapons and tactics in use were so primitive as to be laughable – and alien. Swords and shields? Suits of gleaming metal armor? _Catapults?_ Just how long ago _was_ this?

"Years passed. Eventually, the world found itself on the brink, and yet the false goddesses, too lost in their vain and petty desires, continued to ignore the desperate pleas of their followers."

The second image had faded, being replaced by another ahead. This new picture showed some kind of protest or riot, an enormous crowd swarming around a tower that was suspiciously similar to the one now sitting in the middle of Leanbox City. At the top of tower was a dark cloud from which cartoonish bolts of lightning struck out at the humans below. The background was equally dire, showing a series of lifeless hills covered in blackened, war-torn dirt.

"And then, just when the world was facing its end…She was born."

Another image. This one was similar to the previous. Now, however, the dark cloud had vanished, and the tower seemed to have shrunk considerably. Filling much of the background was the pure white silhouette of a person.

"Our Goddess was birthed into being to answer the prayers that had been directed so wrongly at the false goddesses. But our Goddess was merciful, all the same. With Her divine power, She cast the sinful leaders of the world into oblivion so that they would never harm anyone ever again."

The next image was quite horrifying – four screaming, monstrous beings fell backward into a blank background. Their skin consisted of a mottled mix of scales and strange growths that may as well have been barnacles. Upon each of their heads sat a set of various horns that seemed to have formed completely at random. Their hands and feet ended in vicious claws, and their mouths were filled with an absurd number of needle-like teeth. Yet, despite their inhuman visages, it was clear that their faces were locked into pure terror.

Something was beginning to nag at Noire as she waited for the next slide. That voice was starting to sound more and more familiar…

 _Hmph! It's…it's not like I was doing it because you're my friend or anything!_

Noire's brow raised at the oddness of her own thought – why had the voice of her sister Uni suddenly entered her mind?

"Our Goddess then set upon the difficult task of righting the wrongs that had been done to the world. But, of course, even that which seems impossible is not too much for our Goddess. That which had been destroyed, split asunder, and rendered ruined was created anew. And so the world rejoiced."

 _Wait…is that…_

The realization dawning upon Noire matched the image ahead, which was showing a sunrise gleaming upon hills that were now verdant with life. The center of the sun was positioned to sit just at the apex of the tower, from which golden rays were spilling in a rather dramatic fashion.

"Our Goddess made only a single request in return for Her kindness – the love and devotion of those within Her domain, which encompasses our entire world. No false goddesses would be tolerated, and no pointless conflict would be abided. What purpose was there, then, in dividing the world with human concepts? Soon, the four disparate lands of Gamindustri were united into one – the Union of Gamindustri."

Another map was displayed, this one being revised to show Gamindustri as a singular land shaded in solid purple. Yet, Noire's eyes barely noticed, her thoughts turned elsewhere. "Where have I heard that voice?" She kept repeating the question in her own head, wracking her memory for any clue.

"And so the Goddess smiled."

The hallway was then filled with a sudden light, forcing Noire to squint. Through the glaring brightness, the CPU could make out the shape of a young, delicate woman in the distance. Upon her frame sat a flowing white dress, the voluminous sleeves covering her outstretched arms. Her hair was the color of lilac, her gentle eyes much the same. If one was to pose the question of what a goddess should look like, this depiction would answer it quickly and definitively.

Some time passed, but no other messages were given. That blinding image of the "Goddess" seemed to hang in the air ahead without growing any larger – either it was quite some distance away, or it was being moved backward at the same rate as the conveyor. Just as Noire's eyes were growing used to the light, she felt the floor beneath her stop, nearly causing her to fall. She stepped forward with unsteady legs, now feeling far more dazed and confused than she had at the entrance of the hallway.

It then occurred to her as she tentatively moved onward that she had crossed quite a distance. How was this building so large? She certainly hadn't seen a hall stretching across the fairgrounds earlier. And there was no exit in sight. How would she get out?

 _Neptune? Where did you go?_

Noire closed her eyes momentarily to give them a break from staring at the glowing radiance of the Goddess ahead. She raised a hand to rub her forehead, which was beginning to ache with that all-too-familiar sensation of stress.

When she opened her eyes, she gave a double-take. And then a triple-take. Gone was the space-defying hallway. She found herself standing just inside a cavernous room of gray stone, complete with such extravagant decorations that there was no mistaking the importance of this place. Yet, her vision was focused not on the two sets of unoccupied pews lining the floor ahead, nor the glittering chandelier of glass hanging from high above. Her eyes were guided by the royal purple carpet running through the center of the room, meeting a set of stairs that led to an empty throne much like that a CPU would address her subjects from. On either side of the throne sat a pair of pewter candelabras, their candles breathing a heady scent into the air of the room that served to cleanse the mind of imperfect thoughts. Following the wisps of smoking incense upward, one's attention would be captured by the incandescence flowing through the window at the back of the room. There, depicted in a beautiful stained glass display, was the larger-than-life image of that being known as the Goddess. Her warm smile was all that was needed to remove the chill that should be present in such a vast chamber.

But just who would sit upon this throne under the watchful eye of their Goddess?

"Oh, hiya Nowa! Isn't this place the coolest?! It's like it's all set up just to tell people how awesome my little sis is!"

"Nepgear," Noire muttered to herself. "How long have you had this world all to yourself, I wonder?"

A whiny groan came from the side. "Aw, come on, Nowaru! Are you really gonna just give me the cold shoulder like that?"

Noire continued to stare at the visage of the Goddess ahead before finally blinking, her eyes having begun to water. She slowly turned her head to face Neptune. "Do you think she's lonely?"

"Huh?" Neptune's brows curved in obvious confusion.

Noire gave a quiet sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. "Nevermind."

"Okeydokey! If you say so, Noire."

"My, my," came a soft voice. "How rare it is to have two visitors at once."

The CPUs both jumped at the same time when a figure seemed to materialize from just out of their sight to stand right next to them.

Noire took a step away, her hand instinctively moving to her side as if to grip a sword that wasn't there. She corrected her foible by instead planting her hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes to complete the ensemble. The CPU's vision scrambled to assess this new potential threat, making out the shape of a woman whose form was completely covered by a featureless gray robe. Her face was obscured by the garment's hood, but the stooping arch in her back made her age readily apparent. "Who are you?"

The woman lifted her head, revealing a face that was so stunningly smooth and perfect as to seem unnatural. Her smile appeared genuine, though the dullness of her colorless eyes did little to put one at ease. The strands of hair spilling from the edge of her hood were equally lacking in saturation. "I am but a humble keeper for this most holy Hall. It is my sacred duty to guide those lacking in knowledge of the Goddess' will so that they may learn of Her kindness." She gave a slight bow. "Please, if you have any questions, do feel free to ask."

Part of Noire's mind was giving a sly smile while muttering _"Jackpot,"_ but every other fiber of her being was on edge. Of course, before she could form her first question (of which she had at least several hundred), she was interrupted by Neptune, who said rather loudly, "So where _is_ ol' Gear, anyway? I wanna find her and give her a _biiiiig_ hug for putting all of this together while her big sis is away!"

The keeper's smile fell, seemingly plunging the temperature of the room several degrees. "You will not speak of our Goddess in such close terms. No blasphemy of any sort will be abided within the Goddess' domain." Her eyes narrowed when she gave a quick glance downward. "But perhaps you are in more need of guidance than first thought." A deflating sigh came from her as she shook her head in an obvious sign of disapproval. "My, my. Surely you realize that to wear indecent garments invites indecent thoughts? And to do so in this sacred place…" She shook her head again. "Shameful. Shameful, indeed."

"'Indecent garments?'" Noire echoed. Her nose creased for a moment as she rose her arms to cross them. The urge to argue against that slight on her appearance was difficult to resist, but the smarter side of her decided that to start an argument would run counter to her goals.

 _Perhaps the CPU of Lastation should begin with the most important question before her fuse grows any shorter, hm?_

Noire breathed out through her nose to let the indignation flow away. "So…who is this 'Goddess,' anyway?"

Their impromptu tour guide seemed to freeze up, and for a moment, Noire wondered if she had committed a terrible offense. Then, the keeper's lips curved into a smile. "Such a question cannot be answered in mere words."

"Ohhhh?" Neptune began with a raised brow. "Can it be answered in sign language? Maybe with an interpretive dance? Oh! I know!" She made a little excited hop. "It's told in smell-o-vision!"

The keeper's smile remained as she gave a muted chuckle. "The enthusiasm in your heart shall serve you well, but I am afraid that impatience will undoubtedly have the opposite effect. Setting upon the path to knowledge is a life-long journey, you see." She waited for Neptune's bounciness to fade before continuing. "You have both already taken the first step by setting foot within this Hall. Perhaps I can best guide you further along the path by asking a question of my own?"

The corners of Noire's mouth remained set into a slight frown as she nodded. "Go ahead. But I can't promise that every question you could ask will be answered."

"And neither I nor the Goddess Herself would expect as much, seducer of Lastation." The keeper must've noticed the obvious surprise on the CPUs' faces as she posed her question: "Why have you now returned to the Goddess' domain?"


	12. Zero Goddesses Online

"Aw, man, am I spent. Ah…welllllll…and so is my wallet, I guess. Heh."

The Festival of the Union brought all manner of denizens from across Gamindustri to sample its attractions, and Jake hardly considered himself any different from the tourists swarming the fairgrounds. Well, maybe there was _one_ difference – he wasn't just here for the festivities.

"So…what do you think of Leanbox?"

"Ah, now that's a heck of a question, Milly. I think I'm still gonna need some time to think on that. Still a whole lot to see, you know?"

Lots of people scoffed at the idea of online dating. That's what he called it, anyway. They'd just make fun of him even harder if he said he met his girlfriend through a game. Or maybe they'd ask which game it was, and then he'd have to answer some really uncomfortable questions. He generally tried not to think about how he could get locked up for a hobby that didn't seem to harm anyone – but, then again, some of the people he'd run across online were so shady that he quickly learned how to turn a blind eye.

Milly – or _Mildred,_ as her parents had named her – gave a chuckle, moving her gaze across the crowd all around the park bench they were currently sitting on. "This is the first time I've been old enough to go out on my own during a Festival here at Leanbox. The city's always bustling with people, but… _this_ is something else." She caught herself, a smile forming on her face as she turned her attention back to Jake. "Well, I suppose I'm not exactly _alone…_ "

Mildred. An ugly name for a beautiful person. It didn't sound nearly as pretty as "Lunara," which was the handle he'd first learned to address her by – it'd been more convenient than typing out "Darkm00nSlayerLunara," at least. Fast forward a few weeks, and they'd found themselves in a budding relationship. When she suggested he come to Leanbox for the Festival to meet her and some mutual friends, he'd nearly had a panic attack at the very idea. Really, he was just glad he wasn't sweating bullets being around a girl he'd only met in person just a few days ago.

Jake let out a startled breath when he felt something touch his hand, which he snatched away by reflex.

"Oh, come on. There's no use in playing 'hard to get' _now,_ y'know." Milly's smile had only grown at her friend's evasive behavior. She moved her own hand closer, settling it upon the boy's thigh.

"Y-You shouldn't be so forward! Espe…especially in front of so many people!"

"Oh? Why not?" Milly had cocked up an eyebrow, making little attempt to hide her intentions. She leaned over to put their faces within a dangerously close distance. Her breaths were hot, but that wasn't exactly what was causing Jake to break out in a sweat. "Are Lastation boys not into girls or something?"

Jake did his best to slide away, putting his hands up defensively. "No-n-n-n-no! That's…not what I mean! It's just…it's bad to do things like that in public. Very, very bad." He scanned his eyes over the packed fairgrounds, noting that the crowd had grown a little thinner in their area. Across the stony path sat a bench much like the one they had claimed for use. A woman dressed in an attire that was probably way more formal – and expensive – than necessary was seated there. And she seemed to be staring right at them with an awfully serious look on her face, leaning forward with her chin resting on one hand.

It didn't take long for Milly to find what he was looking at. "Oh…" The girl's jaw hung open for a moment before she suddenly sprung to an upright posture that no mother or teacher could possibly scold. "That's…uh…the Duchess. Of Leanbox. I think. I know I've seen her on TV a few times before."

The sound that came from Jake could best be described as a muted screech. "Th…th…the _Duchess?!_ " he spoke in a hoarse whisper. "What's she doing _here?!_ "

The woman must've realized that she was finally noticed, as she raised her head from her hand and gave a little wave. Frankly, the hint of a smile that had formed on her lips made the gesture seem oddly demure for someone of such stature.

"Oh! Oh no!" Jake had placed his hands on either side of his head at this point. "I'm done for!"

* * *

Ah, yes. The flame of youth, they called it – whoever "they" was supposed to be. Clearly, this girl was dead-set on sinking her claws into the poor, unsuspecting young man. It was hard to deny the effectiveness of such a tactic – Relera had used it herself at least once, although that had been under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol…probably. Then again, some people, such as this boy who was apparently of the "please don't touch me" type, just couldn't get the hint. How sad. Was that how people raised their kids on the mainland? No wonder they were facing an impending population shortage.

 _At this rate, we're going to have to start censoring handholding. That_ does _feel like something Kei would push, actually…_

The would-be couple seemed to have become rather alarmed when they realized they were in the presence of one of the most important people in all of Gamindustri. Oops. She hadn't really meant to stare, but absent-mindedness combined with a seriously broken sleep schedule wasn't exactly working in her favor.

 _Why does_ this _have to be Leanbox's year?_

Official policy mandated that the Festival of the Union, an annual celebration, take place in a different location every year. What the law didn't state was exactly where it had to be held, with the exception of Planeptune, which was always exempt.

 _The Goddess needs Her beauty sleep twenty-four-seven, I suppose. Lucky brat._

Unofficial policy had designated a rotation among the three minor lands of Gamindustri – each year, a different nation-state would hold the Festival, typically within the local capital city, until all had had their turn. And thus, fate had conspired to deprive Relera of sleep just when she needed it most.

Not that she'd be sleeping soundly even in the best of conditions.

 _Why hasn't she shown up yet?_

A quick check of the phone followed – an essential tool for any denizen of the Goddess' domain.

 _Oh. Still ten minutes until it's time. Or was it an hour from now?_

"Hey!"

A voice called from the side, drawing Relera's attention. There, a shape could be seen making its way through the crowd.

"Ahem…I mean…ah…well met, Your Grace." Still short of breath after what must've been quite a run, Falcom gave a deep, respectful bow that belied her plain appearance. A single drop of sweat fell from her brow to the ground.

Relera waved a hand dismissively. "No need for any of that." She gave a quick glance to either side before adding, "It'll just make it easier for us to be noticed."

 _Not that wearing the official attire of the office makes you noticeable, hm?_

"Oh, good grief," said Relera. "No need to get smarmy."

Falcom blinked as if confused. "'Smarmy?' I…I'm not sure what I said that can be interpreted that way…Y-Your Grace."

A sigh came from Relera. "Whatever." She patted the space next to her on the bench. "Have a seat, would you? I don't bite."

The agent stood motionless for a moment. "You…don't breathe fire either, right?"

"Just sit down already."

The irritation in Relera's voice was impossible to miss, and thus Falcom decided that she should probably comply as quickly as possible. The metal surface of the bench wasn't too uncomfortable, but sitting in the presence of a Duchess was a different story. No matter how many times Falcom mingled with the rich and powerful, she never seemed to know how to fit in. And the crowd certainly didn't help – the fledgling agent in her said that having so many people around provided anonymity, but it really felt more like every single pair of eyes in the area was looking her way.

"So…what are they like?"

The question struck Falcom as all sorts of odd. Had she been called here to this public place to discuss such a thing? Why was this Duchess treating a highly classified mission as if it was a casual conversation piece? "I-I'm not sure who you might be referring to, Your Grace."

"Oh, don't be a tease. Just a little hint?"

There was an undercurrent of something in her manner that Falcom hadn't seen in a very long time – excitement, and maybe just a little awe. It reminded Falcom of how people reacted whenever she would off-handedly mention one of many anecdotes relating to her past adventures. Of course, the woman sitting next to her was hardly some village fishwife looking for an interesting tale to pass the time. "I believe any relevant knowledge should be covered in my reports."

"Yes, yes, I've read the reports. I've read so very _many_ reports, and yet still I hear people all the time, pointing and laughing, mumbling to one another about how very little I know. _So,_ dear agent, I wish to hear directly from _you._ What are _you_ speaking of behind my back?"

A stab of fear as cold as ice went through Falcom's spine. The woman's interest seemed more than genuine, and yet…Was this a setup? Was this person an imposter, even? She needed to make a decision – could she trust this woman? All of her instincts screamed at her to flee, but her duties as an agent kept her pinned in place, right in the crosshairs that were no doubt pointed at her. "I haven't had much personal contact with them myself. A-And, of course, I'm speaking strictly about the past. I have had zero direct contact with them since their arrival."

The Duchess raised a rather suggestive brow. "And?"

"I am afraid that I can add little more. Your Grace."

"Oh, come now. So uptight! I figured you Guild types would be _used_ to dancing around royalty – twirling us around your little finger, as it were." A chuckle came from her. "Or does it bother you that much to sit next to a pretty lady?" She clapped her hands together with sudden energy, her expression turning sly as she slid a little closer to Falcom. "Ah. But of course! You've done your research, haven't you?" She leaned forward as if to wrap her arm around Falcom's shoulders, but she stopped short, propping her hand on the back of the bench. "I should've known, hm? I'm an open book to you and your Guild, aren't I? I bet you know all about my… _eccentricities…_ the _scandals_..." She paused, pressing a finger to her lips. "Mm…maybe even…that one time with the _yo-yo_ and the _pineapple?_ "

Falcom did her best to slide away, even knowing that it would likely cause offense. "I—I have no idea what you're talking about, Your Grace."

Relera laughed again, this time more heartily, moving back away from the agent. "Not much of a joker, are you?" Her laugh ended in an amused sigh. "That's just too bad."

 _I suppose it really_ doesn't _always work, hm?_

Falcom's expression had turned stony. "My apologies, Your Grace. The Guild prefers that its agents maintain a professional relationship with their contacts."

"Hah! Don't let the high and mighty stick-in-the-muds of the world drag you down. Just because you're a cog in the machine doesn't mean you have to _act_ like it. I mean, you're still _you_ , aren't you?" The Duchess pointed a finger at Falcom to emphasize her words. Relera slowly lowered her hand when there was no response, her smile fading. "Fine. I guess we'll get down to business, then."

Falcom's brow rose in acknowledgement, but she remained silent.

Relera reached a hand into what must've been a pocket concealed in her dress, retrieving a small pouch of some kind, tied off at the top by a red ribbon. "Here. You'll be needing this."

The agent's brow rose further when the pouch was placed into her own hand. The material beneath her fingers felt odd indeed – covered in a pattern of hexagons, the shiny, bumpy surface was reminiscent of artificial snakeskin. It was almost painfully cold, much like the chill of snow upon skin, but with a far deeper bite than any frost could hope to achieve, bringing the sensation of a nauseating ache that flowed up to her elbow. Even stranger, she could swear that the object was _pulsing,_ as if a beating, diseased heart lay within. "What _is_ this?"

"Don't open it," Relera said, raising a finger much like a parent warning her child. "Not unless you have to."

Despite the alluring call of curiosity, Falcom had hardly planned on investigating the pouch's contents – whatever it was, it proved to be unnatural, and quite possibly deadly. She'd handled poisons before, as reluctant as she was to do so, but this seemed far beyond any mere toxin.

 _Unless…_

Falcom's eyes widened as realization hit her. "This wasn't part of the mission parameters, Your Grace. It is to be strictly observational, so I was briefed."

"Well, then there's been a change to your parameters, hasn't there?"

That same fearful chill from before struck through Falcom, a sensation that never faltered in its terribleness. Her hand began to shake, and she was forced to place the pouch down on the bench. It seemed that merely following orders was no longer enough. Did she dare disobey a request from a Duchess? And if the request entailed something as sinister as she thought…

Falcom shook her head. " _No._ This goes against protocol. You'll need to consult with the Guild before having this kind of change approved." Despite the forcefulness of her words, she was trembling with a potent mix of fear and fury. Before she could stop herself, she was standing up from the bench. "And you'll need to find yourself another agent, too."

"Sit down."

A moment passed, Falcom's lips pressed into a tight line as she considered the command. She had let her emotions get the better of her. Slowly, she lowered herself back to the bench, her gaze firmly focused on the grass. "You can't force me to obey. It would be easy to report this to the Guild. And the Oracle." Falcom almost hit herself for letting her mouth run on its own again. Yes, she could report this request – and she could just as easily be removed from the picture before she had a chance to do so.

"I _know_ that, dummy. So let me say it again: don't use it unless you have to."

Falcom turned her head to face Relera, examining the Duchess' face for any possible clues. _She seems so sincere. But being gullible has never ended in my favor, has it?_ The agent took in a deep breath to give herself a few more moments to think. _She's a tough one to crack. I can't read her at all. And those red eyes…creepy._ Finally, Falcom nodded, her own eyes unblinking. "Alright. I'll take it. But I can't promise that I'll ever use it."

"Good. Consider it a Plan B. A plan that officially doesn't exist, yes?"

Another stiff nod was given as Falcom gritted her teeth. She moved to rise to her feet, but she was stopped by a touch upon her shoulder.

"Try not to get yourself killed. That one's an order, by the way. Oh, and take a vacation when this is all over – a nice long one, maybe in Fukoka or something. I've been there once. Nice place, if you like tans."

"Is that an order as well, Your Grace?"

"Eh. No. Just a bonus objective for S-ranking the mission. Triple S-rank for bringing home a boyfriend."


	13. I Wish

Something about this mission wasn't quite right. Falcom wished she could say that she'd suspected as much from the start, but she had dived right in with hardly a brow raised. In hindsight, it should've been obvious that this would turn out to be more than a simple reconnaissance mission the instant she learned that both the Duchess of Leanbox and the Oracle of Gamindustri were involved. The questions that were beginning to fill Falcom's head did not bode well for the future of her career.

She ducked into a dark alley – Leanbox sure had a lot of those – as a pair of figures came around the corner. A nervous chuckle met her ears. "I'm at least glad that we're able to talk a little more. It's nice to speak with someone who isn't…well, a total airhead."

"Likewise." A pause. "U-Um…er…Noire."

"Hm? What is it? It's not like you to stumble over your words, you know."

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. "How are you holding up?"

"Eh?! Th-That's not like you, either!"

" _Hey._ " The voice had a sudden jump in sharpness. "Put those blushing cheeks away. I just want to make sure I don't need to worry about you shattering like a glass vase when push comes to shove."

"'When push comes to shove,' eh? I think I can handle whatever gets thrown at us, if I do say so myself."

"I sure hope so."

Footsteps approached and stopped, the light from a lamp across the street now being obscured. _Noire and Blanc. In the flesh. I could call out to them right now, if I wanted. I wonder if they would be glad to see me. Or would they even remember me?_ Memories of a bygone era flashed through Falcom's mind. This really was too much like ripping open an old scar for her liking – right now, she didn't think she was mentally prepared to step in if she needed to enact "Plan B," as the Duchess had put it.

"I hate to say it, but this place really gives me the creeps. It feels like I'm always being watched."

Falcom flinched, fearing for a moment that she had been spotted. She let out a breath when the figures moved on, filling the alley with a dim neon glow once again.

"How long can one night last, anyway? I'm starting to forget what the sun looks like! And everything is so _green!_ "

"I have gathered that this is a yearly event called the Festival of the…"

"…don't get it. How do they even worship this…"

The voices were beginning to fade away. Luckily for Falcom, the crowd had at least some presence on the less-traveled streets during this part of the Festival, when some began to tire of the festivities and return home, or perhaps explore some other attractions of Leanbox. Not that Falcom had ever been good in crowds. She still missed the days of exploring the wide open wilderness, where one might travel for miles and not see another soul.

* * *

"But they don't _sell_ anything! No merchandise – no games, no figurines, no comics, not even anything to decorate a shrine!"

Blanc nodded as she continued forward. "Depictions of the Goddess appear to be rare. Almost like looking at her is frowned upon."

"That doesn't make any sense, though. Won't people forget about her if they don't even know what she looks like? How is she supposed to gather shares like that?"

"It would seem that faith is of a more subtle nature in this world."

"So…in other words, you don't know."

There was a quick inhale from Blanc. "I don't."

Now Noire gave a bratty laugh. "Oh? But you seem to know _everything!_ "

Blanc's eyes grew dangerous for a moment. "You do better when you're the one having fun poked at you. Don't try to take over Neptune's role."

That was enough to kill the bubbly enthusiasm that had put a spring in Noire's step. "You _had_ to bring her up, didn't you?"

"If I hadn't brought her up, you would have started brooding about her anyway."

Noire's head twisted away as she stopped in her tracks, her teeth clenched. When she looked up again, a momentary sense of panic followed before she realized that Blanc had merely continued onward without her. "H-Hey! Wait for me!"

"We have precious little time remaining," Blanc said as her companion caught up. "The end of the Festival will be here soon."

"Eh? If we're so short on time, then why did you suggest we waste it at the fair?"

"It was not a waste." Blanc's gaze was remaining focused directly ahead as if her neck was locked in place. "You had fun with Neptune, didn't you?"

Another flash of hot anger went through Noire. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to take a deep breath to clear her head. "Not exactly."

"Hmph. That's too bad. At least your visit to the Hall was informative."

Noire's eyes narrowed at this. "I'm not so sure that it was." She didn't bother asking how Blanc knew about the Hall – maybe Blanc had been watching her, or maybe Neptune had blabbered on about it. Either way, it hardly mattered.

"I suppose the Keeper there doesn't have all the answers," said Blanc.

"She knew us."

Blanc nodded. "You speak as if she shouldn't recognize one of the old gods."

"Hardly anyone else seems to."

Blanc's response to this was a derisive snort. A moment later, she asked, "How did you answer her question?"

A sense of irritation was beginning to burn at Noire, far more insidious than the sparks of rage occasionally flickering within her. "You already know, don't you?"

Blanc's silence served as a response all on its own.

' _Why have you now returned to the Goddess' domain?' A delicious question, is it not?_

The truth of the matter was that Noire had been unable to answer the Keeper's query. Thus, the Keeper had had no further answers to trade in turn, insisting that the goddesses leave "Her domain" as quickly as possible, lest they "face Her wrath once again."

Noire had no explanation for her own presence in this world beyond the barest facts – she could give the "how," but not the "why." The goddess of Lastation found herself with such a freedom of choice that it was paralyzing. What was she to do? And what was there to stop her from doing whatever she wished? What punishment would she face for neglecting her duties in this world, so very far away from home?

What if Histoire had made a mistake?

 _What a terrible mistake freedom would be for the slave of Lastation. How is one to find their way in the world when the shackle has comforted them for so very long?_

Noire shook her head to throw away the thoughts that were creeping into her mind. _We have a task to complete here. No one said that it would be easy._ So inwardly focused was she that a collision was made with Blanc's outstretched arm. "H-Hey! What's the—"

" _Shh_."

The warning was so sharp and sudden that Noire found herself complying without a second thought. She followed the direction of Blanc's gaze toward an alleyway shrouded in the most impenetrable of shadows. They stood motionless for what must have been several minutes, ready for… _something_.

Finally, Blanc let out an audible breath. Had she been holding it the entire time? "Go on ahead without me. You remember the directions to get there, right?"

Noire gave her an incredulous look. "What kind of sense does that—"

"Just go."

By now, Noire had learned that arguing with the goddess of Lowee tended to be a fruitless endeavor, either because it would evolve into a rage-fueled battle or because Blanc would prove herself to be as stubborn as she was cryptic. Still, Blanc had so far been a very helpful asset to the gang of CPUs, and her nigh-prophetic intuition had yet to fail them. None of this stopped Noire's sigh from being tinged with frustration. "Fine. But you had better not show up to dinner – or breakfast, or whatever this is – with another set of bruises."

* * *

Noire gave a nervous look around, doing her best to avoid meeting anyone's eyes…and avoid looking nervous. She didn't need anyone to tell her that she was doing a poor job of it. She knew that, for all of her bluster, she had lived a sheltered life, cooped up inside her nation's Basilicom with every luxury she could ever buy. It was hard to even remember the last time she had gone out in public by herself back home – and even then, there was always at least a dozen attendants she could call on if she ran into trouble. There was no denying the fear that had yet to cease creeping at the back of her mind since her entry into this land.

Yet, life buzzed all around her, conversation and smiles aplenty. This seemed to be a joyous time for Leanbox, too caught up in its festivities to notice intruders in its midst. Indeed, it would take hardly a glance to realize that Noire was foreign to this land with her harsh, crimson gaze and her ostentatious attire. She could practically _feel_ the stares from those around her – where once she had encouraged others to feast their eyes upon her form, she now wished she could dig a hole and hide forever. Unfortunately, the condiment bottles and napkin holders on the table would have to make do as her barrier from the world.

"E-Excuse me, ma'am."

The goddess nearly jumped out of her skin, not having realized that someone had approached her. Noire's neck felt like the turret of a tank as she turned to view the speaker. Some part of her desperately hoped that Blanc would be standing there – but, of course, luck had never been in her favor. Instead, she was greeted by the sight of a young man in a restaurant uniform, its black, no-frills apron stained with a colorful variety of substances.

The employee shuffled his feet as he waited for an answer. When one didn't come, he continued on anyway. "M-My boss says you have to order something, or you'll have to leave. M-Ma'am."

Noire took a moment to compose herself before giving the most reassuring smile that she could muster…which only seemed to make the employee wring his hands harder. "Sorry. I'm waiting on a friend."

The boy blinked a few times, mouth agape. "O-Okay. B-But my boss says to tell you, um…he said, 'Tell that cosplayer over there that this is a burger joint, not a maid café.' Ma'am."

A hot blush crossed Noire's cheeks. She'd been afraid that her ignorance of Leanbox culture would come to bite her again. Had Vert ever once mentioned what a 'burger joint' was? Still, she dared to hazard a guess. "Should I come up to the register?"

A nod. "Y-Yeah. I'll…I'll take your order. If you want, that is."

 _Oh. It's fast food._ Noire resisted the urge to smack herself in the face – it'd probably just further confuse the poor young man in front of her. What was his problem, anyway? He looked like he was about to jitter hard enough to open a portal to another dimension.

"Uh…can I ask who you're cosplaying as? M-Ma'am."

The question struck Noire as she rose from her seat. She stood there for a moment, hands propped on the table, resisting the sudden urge to burst into laughter. "Eh? Cosplaying?" She gave a coy giggle. "Oh, I just saw the outfit and thought it was cute. Is it someone you recognize?"

"Uh, no." The employee managed a chuckle of his own. "I mean, uh, I thought I did, but…uh, nevermind." He made an audible swallow, his throat contorting from the effort. "Let's go get your order taken."

"Right."

Now Noire faced her next great hurdle in navigating Leanbox's intricate cultural mores – the menu. Her eyes glazed over as she scanned the blocky text behind the counter, her processor-enhanced brain recognizing the patterns as words she knew but failing to glean any meaning from them. And those numbers behind the currency signs were a lot higher than zero than she was comfortable with…

"We'll have two Skimpy Beefenator combos with salads."

Noire flinched when she saw a hand beside her reaching toward the counter. "Blanc?!"

The boy behind the register looked just as surprised, but he entered the transaction as spoken. "Man, it's been a while since anyone's paid in cash. Okay, so, uh, two Skimpy Beefenator combos, coming right up."

The goddess of Lastation was just about to give a polite nod and step away, but she was practically yanked back to the spot by Blanc. Moments later, she understood why when the requested meal was presented on a tray in…cheap paper bags?

After being awkwardly walked through the rest of the fast food ordering process – what do you mean there's only two types of tea?! – Noire could finally breathe a sigh of relief as she sat down with a meal before her. Her stomach gave an obligatory growl, the scent of food almost overpowering.

"Er…why is everything wrapped up? Isn't the bag enough?"

Blanc, who was already in the process of arranging her own meal, answered, "It's for convenience."

It didn't take long for Noire to notice that her hands were becoming greasy just from handling the wrapping. When she finally managed to splay the foil open, she stared at the… _thing_ that lay there in the middle. She lifted up the top bun, her nose wrinkling as she noted the jumbled mess of toppings and condiments. "What _is_ this?"

"A burger."

"And these?"

"Pickles."

Noire continued to scrutinize the strange sandwich for a time before realizing that she had another component to her meal. "And this?" she asked, pointing to a cup included with the salad.

"Ranch dressing."

A sigh followed as the CPU of Lastation pressed her hands to her face, running them through her hair. "This is peasant food, isn't it?"

Blanc paused in the process of lifting her burger. "It's…salaryman food." She punctuated her words by taking a bite. "Hm. Better than expected."

Another sigh. "I guess we can't afford to be choosy anymore," Noire said as she reached for a napkin to wipe away the grease she had inadvertently gotten on her forehead. "You _did_ pick this place because it's cheap, right?"

"Yes."

A few awkward moments passed as Blanc nibbled at her food. Meanwhile, Noire, still not quite sure if she wished to test the mettle of her stomach against her meal, was staring intently at her companion's face.

 _Time grows short. A goddess may live forever, CPU of Lastation, but opportunities may be lost forever._

Noire nearly jumped in her seat at this sudden thought. How desperate for direction was she that her own inner self was prodding her? "So, ah…I've been wondering…" Noire took a few glances around before leaning in slightly. "Where have you been getting the money to pay for food?"

A pause. "That's…something I can't tell you."

Noire's brow raised, her expression growing catty. "Oh? Just like all those other things you can't tell me? All those terse statements, those measured words? Can we just skip to the part where you finally reveal that you're a time traveler?"

Blanc nearly choked on her food at this, but she managed to swallow after some effort. Still, she gave no answer, her gaze not meeting that of the person across from her.

"You've been stuck in a loop, haven't you? How else do you know everything before it happens? How else are you so calm about all of this? It's because you've seen it all before, dozens, or maybe even hundreds of times, going back in time over and over to fix a mistake. I'm right, aren't I?"

"I wish."

Noire leaned a little closer, studying Blanc's reaction. The girl stared at the burger in her hands for several moments before setting it down…and continuing to stare. Wait – her mouth was tensing up. Was that a _sob?!_

"I wish I had that kind of power…" Blanc choked out, the words barely more than a murmur. "I wish I could fix everything…and I wish I could let someone else understand. But I can't."

Noire's fear that they were drawing stares now came back with a vengeance. "Why not?"

"Because…" Blanc's eyes rose to meet her companions', but no words escaped her lips. Then she suddenly slammed her hands upon the table with enough force to knock over her cup of tea – was it empty? She hadn't even sipped from it yet, had she? "Dammit! I just wish I could explain!"

Noire jumped back at this outburst, giving a few surprised blinks before setting down her fork. "You don't have to keep secrets from me, Blanc. I mean, we've saved the world together before, haven't we?"

"I'm not—" Blanc cut herself off, giving a glance to the side before returning her gaze to Noire, newfound steel present in the Lowee CPU's face. Something about it gave Noire a surge of…confidence? "Listen. You've played the Floor is Lava before, right?"

"Er…" Noire's incredulous look gave her answer.

"…Let's try another example. How about Minesweeper?"

"Ah! Yes, I have."

"Of course." Blanc gave a nod. "So, you know how in Minesweeper, there are certain tiles you can step on, and others that cause you to…" She paused as if waiting for a response.

"Reset?"

"Exactly."

"Like a time traveler?"

This was promptly followed by Blanc performing the "headdesk" maneuver. "Forget about time travel already. But, speaking of time…" She rose from her seat, placing the empty wrappers of her meal into her bag. "It's getting late. Relatively speaking, that is. I'll grab something for Vert and Neptune on the way out. I will have to apologize for taking so long."

"But it's only been…" Noire's protest trailed off as she noted that her own meal was thoroughly devoured, aside from the two pickles laying in a pool of red and yellow liquid. A look out the window revealed a street still interlaced with the deep shadows of night. "Huh."

Then she saw the flash of red hair.

* * *

Falcom had barely managed to duck down fast enough to avoid being spotted when the goddess' gaze had turned toward her position on a nearby low-sitting rooftop. The directional microphone that was a part of an agent's standard kit had sufficed for the job, but she wished she had a better method of staying hidden besides the old fashioned way. What happened to those rumors of agents being able to turn invisible and even become one with the shadows? Or had that been ninjas?

Regardless, she now had more proof than ever that these girls were the real deal. Not that she had been unconvinced before. Some part of her wished that she could simply speak to them, but she understood the need for caution – and the potential consequences of their return. What chance was there of the world welcoming them with open arms? Of the Goddess allowing her nation to once again be divided? What grand plan could Falcom have possibly been swept up within that did not end in violence?

Falcom's mouth wrung into a tight line when she once again remembered how the Duchess had mentioned "Plan B." It was one thing to have uncertainties during a mission, but it was quite another to receive conflicting orders. What would happen when she proved unable to appease everyone?

Thankfully, it hadn't come to that just yet. If it did…

Her eyes were suddenly drawn to movement, zeroing in much like a hawk's. Noire was leaving the restaurant, her pace hurried but measured. The goddess glanced around anxiously as she made her way through the crowd toward what was presumably the CPUs' hideout.

Crap. Falcom knew that look. She'd been spotted, hadn't she? Or, at least, her quarry seemed to think she was being followed. It was understandable, given the circumstances. Falcom was surprised they hadn't invested in disguises by now. Then again, they seemed too busy concentrating on getting food into their bellies to think about much else. It was almost sickening to sit by and watch them live like beggars.

The agent rose gingerly to her feet, noticing that she seemed to be aching all over. How long had she crouched on this roof with her microphone at the ready? She raised a hand, taking a look at her wrist. There was no watch present there – instead, a time readout appeared directly in her vision, along with a variety of other useful information. _That_ had definitely taken some getting used to, but it was way more convenient than any gadget could ever be. Some might be appalled by the idea of having their bodies implanted with machines and devices, but Falcom had to admit that it was pretty cool. And as long as she was an agent of the Guild, all related costs were covered.

Her eyes widened when she saw the time. Had it really been that long? That conversation hadn't seemed to drag on _that_ much.

She brought up the latest log recorded by her microphone. There, on the readout, it clearly displayed that the recording was a grand total of about…an hour and a half. Just as the time on her internal clock had indicated. Making sure that the microphone was still wirelessly connected to the miniscule audio devices embedded within her ears, she pressed play on the recording. Yep – just a few minutes in, she could hear the beginnings of the CPUs' conversation at the restaurant.

Before the agent knew it, she'd listened to the whole thing. She blinked, not quite sure how she'd been so absent-minded. She took another look at her clock – over another hour had passed.

 _What the hell?_

A strange hunch occurred to her as she changed the recording to start from about the halfway mark and pressed play once again, keeping her eyes firmly focused on the time readout.

" _Dammit! I just wish I could explain!"_

The explosive voice of Blanc rung through Falcom's ears, bringing the agent back to awareness.

Falcom blinked again. Had she begun to drift off? She paused the playback of the recording and checked its time, as well as her clock. Both indicated that she'd been listening for at least thirty minutes. Yet, she struggled to recall a single thing that she had just heard.

 _Huh. Maybe I'm just tired. At the very least, I think it's about time I get down from this roof before someone thinks I'm trying to break in._


	14. Gray Heart

"Just let me talk to them. I'm sure they'll be more than willing to cooperate."

"No."

The word hadn't been unexpected, but it hit Relera with very real force all the same. "I don't get it. They've been kept in the dark for long enough, yes?"

"No."

Relera fumed in silence for a few moments as she tried to think of another way to crack open the Oracle's defenses. "What if I—"

"No."

"Fine!" The Duchess threw her arms up as her patience threatened to reach its end. "I'm going for a walk."

"It matters not to me."

" _Fine!_ " Relera repeated, a little more loudly this time. "You're just so _infuriating_ , and you _know_ _it!_ "

"Yes."

" _Gah!_ "

As Relera stepped out of the room, she put as much effort as she could into slamming the door behind her. Just before it would've shut, however, she felt it slow down in her hand as if being pulled by an opposing force.

 _Click._

That was hardly the sound she'd wanted out of it. She turned to stare at the door for a moment, her face expressionless. There was an electric tingle present in her fingers that was already beginning to fade.

 _Impotent._

Even something as simple as a display of rage was denied to her under the watchful eye of the Goddess' Oracle.

* * *

 _Green. Green. Green. Green._

Another night under the stars – not that they were visible to anyone who cared to see them. As had been the case since her first night in this city, Noire found herself restless, even as her body demanded sleep. She was starting to feel like a wandering spirit, her head burning from the ever-present glow of Leanbox, her eyes forming into a blank stare more often than not. How this was supposed to be a pleasant experience for tourists, she couldn't say. Of course, most tourists probably had a bed more comfortable than a mattress upon the ground – they'd managed to at least upgrade from their previous cardboard-based solution, but Blanc still insisted that checking into a hotel with their newfound funds would draw too much attention.

The sight of the black void visible through a gap in the skyways above brought flashes of some distant memory – the heavens of Celestia, now further away than they had ever seemed before. Yet, Noire couldn't remember a time she had ever spent a night outside back home. Had it been during that curious, foggy era she called her childhood? She had only the vaguest recollection of what her life had consisted of before she was known as the CPU of Lastation. But, somehow, Noire could picture it now – a shooting star needling through an incredible display of colorful nebulae and celestial dust, the sounds of mirth coming from a group huddled around a campfire, the grass beneath her back damp from a recent storm that had threatened to ruin their outing…That must have been centuries ago, at least.

The goddess let out a quiet sigh. The air was so very still. At some point, it had dawned on her just how stagnant the world felt. There was no breeze, no changes in temperature, and never a break in the distant melody of festive music. Something about this place was simply _unnatural_. Was it the effect the Festival had on people, its magic creating an imperceptible static that burned at the senses? Was it a result of being within this city, with its clever web of streets that stretched from deep beneath the ground to the heights of its monolithic towers? Was it just the obvious result of being thrown head-first into a foreign land? Surely, she could list another hundred of such causes, but her mind was already growing tired. Then again, maybe she should keep going – it seemed to be working better than counting sheep.

 _I can't sleep. Not when I think – when I_ know – _someone is out there, watching._

Noire's head rolled over to the side as she struggled to find a more comfortable way to lay on her makeshift bed. In the faint light spilling from the street, she could make out the form of Neptune lying some distance away, the girl's chest rising and falling in a telltale rhythm. Her snoring was quieter than usual, barely being audible beneath the ambience of the city – not that Noire was complaining. And, yes, against another wall could be seen none other than the delicate, sumptuous Vert, having travelled such a long way from the walls of her sanctuary within the Leanbox Basilicom they knew. Her troubled face was a far cry from the serene confidence she allowed others to see – her eyes shifted beneath their lids, wondering when they would be free of the dream that held them.

But what of Blanc? Noire lifted her head, straining to make out anything against the dim greenness that made up the world around her. A mattress in the clearing was empty, having been left unattended with its blankets pulled to the side.

Now suddenly feeling a little more awake, Noire rose to her feet. It had been Blanc who'd argued against Noire's suggestion that one of them stay up to keep watch while the others rested. The CPU of Lowee had seemed so adamant that no harm would come to them. Had she intended to stand guard herself, not wanting the others to worry about her health? Or was there something else?

 _It's never simple when it comes to her._

A quick look toward the street revealed no silhouette standing in the shadows – no sentry was present to watch over the sleeping goddesses. A sense of alarm shot through Noire. She didn't know whether to be more concerned that they had been left unguarded or that Blanc was somewhere out there. Alone.

But, surely, a goddess could manage on her own? The CPU of Lowee was no pushover, after all – Lastation's goddess had engaged in enough fights both with and against Lowee's contender to know that much. And Noire had done well enough in her own outings so far. Even Vert and – shockingly – Neptune seemed to have no trouble with handling their independent sorties.

A quiet chuckle came from Noire when she realized that she'd been silently mouthing her thoughts to no one in particular. She wasn't sure when she'd picked up the habit of talking to herself, but it wasn't doing any favors to her image as a loner. A sudden yawn brought her attention further inward – she needed sleep. Still, that niggling sense of worry didn't seem like it was going to go away anytime soon.

 _So many awful, awful things can happen to a poor, poor little girl lost within this world._

Noire stiffened as this thought washed over her. Her mouth hadn't formed those words. Her eyes glanced about, wondering if she was simply so tired that her senses were becoming confused.

"Is someone there?"

There was no response – not that Noire expected one, given that she had barely spoken above a whisper. She was almost taken aback by the shakiness of the sigh that escaped her own lips.

Noire took a single step forward before turning her attention back to the sources of the snores coming to her ears. Would it be best to wake them? Surely they would just pester her with the usual annoying questions and jokes, and Noire was hardly in a mood to listen to Neptune's shrill voice.

Better not to worry them, then.

Soon enough, Noire found herself standing on the sidewalk, a wide open street stretching in either direction. And, of course, the silhouette of that ridiculous hat the goddess of Lowee always wore was still nowhere to be seen. An entire city sat ready to be explored.

 _An entire city to be lost within once again._

The Lastation CPU steeled herself with another uneasy breath before resuming her journey.

 _Uhg. I hope she knows how much trouble she's making for me, because I'm going to pound it into her head when I find her!_

There was no telling how much time passed as Noire set forth into the streets of Leanbox. As always, there was no destination in mind. And, as always, her sense of direction failed her. Her steps began to increase in pace even as her stamina flagged, her heels now _clacking_ against the sidewalk, her glare throwing aside any passersby who had the misfortune of crossing her path—

" _EEK!_ "

Noire may have set some kind of acrobatic record as she leapt forward, having felt a pair of hands clamp onto her shoulders. It didn't take much for her to figure out what had happened when she heard a familiar guffawing resound from behind.

"Good _grief,_ Neptune! How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?!"

Another laugh came from the Neptune in question. "Oh, but come on, Noire! I can't help it when you make such a funny face every time!"

Noire lowered her hand from her chest, giving an irritated groan. "Whatever. I didn't ask you to follow me. So _beat_ it."

Neptune gave her best impression of a pout. "But…but Noire! It's so cold and lonely out here with just Vert to keep me company!"

The implication that Vert was "cold and lonely" herself briefly crossed Noire's mind, but it was quickly flushed out by annoyance. "Hmph. And why should I care?"

"Bah, humbug!" Neptune cried. "Cold and Lonely Heart strikes again!"

"Would you stop using those words?!"

Neptune's expression suddenly turned sly. "But, wait. Is Noire going on a sneaking mission all on her lonesome?" The girl took in a dramatic gasp. "Is she going on a sneaking mission with _Blanc?!_ And without inviting me or Vert! How very _snaky_ of you, Nowa!"

Noire felt her fingers _twitch._ The motion was nearly imperceptible, in contrast to the tension present within Noire's arm as she forced it to remain at her side.

"Uh…Noire?"

Noire gave a nervous laugh, throwing on what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Oh, yes, a _snaking_ mission with Blanc! Of course! Ahahahah!"

"R-Right you are, Noire. Ahah…ahahahahah…" Neptune's own laugh trailed off with nary a punchline. "Well, I guess I'll see ya later, then."

Neptune's gait lacked the usual pep as she headed back to what she'd rather eloquently dubbed the CPU Hideout for CPUs.

 _That felt wrong._

Noire gazed down at her hand, giving it a few conscious flexes.

"Lemme know how the sneaky-snake goes!" Neptune called from some distance away.

No reply was given. What could Noire possibly say? She was in no mood for games and hijinks – she'd made that very clear, and, for once, Neptune had complied. Yet, it hadn't at all gone as Noire had envisioned it. A line had been crossed somewhere without either of them realizing that it had even existed before.

 _Take a look around. Is this not what you wanted?_

It was true that she was now as alone as one could get in the middle of a teeming metropolis. As much as the others teased her for it, she really did value her privacy – her personal space, as it was. And, as much as she did her best to set an example as the leader of Lastation, she found that she seemed to be at her happiest during those scant few moments of free time she managed to steal away. There were so many things she wanted to do – so many forms of entertainment to indulge in – but never, _never_ enough time.

All Noire could do was give a sigh, pressing a hand to her forehead, which was beginning to suffer a dull, pounding ache. _I've been letting Blanc rub off on me a little too much._

 _Blanc!_

She had been searching for the missing CPU, hadn't she? Yet, as Noire took another look down the street with its endless silhouettes of strangers, she found her will to keep on forward dwindling by the second.

 _It's hopeless. This place is beyond huge. I'll never find her at this rate._

 _Oh? Giving up so soon?_

"Yes. I give up." The words were more mouthed than spoken, but their impact was felt all the same. "I'm _sick_ …of this…"

She wasn't sure why she'd suddenly had the urge to yell, but regardless of the reason, her voice had decided to falter. Her mouth opened once again, but no words at all escaped this time. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, forcing her body to obey.

" _I'm sick of this!_ "

The outburst was a guttural one, born of emotion gleeful for its chance to finally rise to the surface. She was sick of this city. Of this world. Of this fruitless mission they had so stupidly set upon with only the most basic of guidance. How many hours had she wasted in this eye-watering maze? The endless night had melded into a miasma that she knew was eating away at her, little by little. Those days of presiding over her very own nation, of meeting others in honorable combat, of feeling the warmth of the shares? They could have been another lifetime ago, for all she knew. Now, her existence was a nothingness – that of a wastrel, waiting for…something. _Anything._

Her knees suddenly grew wobbly, the most horrible of chills running through her. Her stomach felt weak, as if it was sick in its own way, a twinge of pain forcing her to double over.

 _What's happening to me?_

The part of Noire that still clung to sense was acutely aware that her behavior was drawing more than a few weird looks. She hobbled away to take refuge from the crowds in a nearby side street, pressing her back against the stony foundation of a building as she sat down.

 _Why are you so afraid, CPU of Lastation? Ah, but is it the answer to this question in itself that strikes such terror into your heart?_

"Why…why am I…"

She hardly even understood what she was trying to ask herself. As it was, she was barely managing to keep her emotions in check. It felt as if her entire body was clenching in the most unpleasant manner possible as she buried her face in her hands, waiting for it to all simply go away.

Slowly, the minutes ticked away one by one. She eventually began to regain conscious control of her form. Yet, even as calm settled over her, there was no denying the sinking feeling within her chest, or the tightness left in her throat. Finally, she deflated with one very long, very heavy sigh, bringing up her knees to lay her chin upon them.

 _Crybaby._

A wince flashed across her face.

 _You're stronger than this. Don't be ridiculous._

"I know."

 _You still have a CPU to find, you know. Better get to it._

"I _know._ "

Another sigh.

 _I am my own taskmaster._

Noire blinked, feeling as if she had just stumbled over something very important.

 _Why am I like this?_

Already, she could feel that horrible sensation from before making its return. She quickly dropped the subject, lest she be overwhelmed once again. Still, it seemed as if she was making progress – although what that progress was being made _toward,_ she couldn't say.

 _So, what now?_

"I don't know."

Really, she didn't feel like doing much at all. She was tired, hungry, sore, and seriously wishing she was back home at the moment, telling her little sister good night – she'd tried tucking the girl in once at Histoire's suggestion, only to be met with protest. A tiny smile formed on Noire's lips at the memory. The girl valued her independence just as much as her older sibling did, it seemed.

 _Good grief. I'm turning into an old maid, reminiscing like this. At this rate, she'll be having kids, and I'll still be grumpy Aunt Noire._

 _Wait._

The smile fell.

 _I can't remember her name._

Noire continued to simply sit, certain that she was just too tired to think straight. Time passed as she stared into the shadowed wall across from her.

The tears didn't try to come this time. Odd.

In fact, she felt perfectly fine.

Completely and utterly calm.

Whatever progress she had just made suddenly seemed so very minute.

 _Poor, poor little Noire. All you have ever dreamed of is the freedom to pout and cry like the child you are. Still, you have a long ways yet to bloom, CPU of Lastation. How terrible to behold your flower shall be with such poisoned soil._

 _Go away._

There was no response. Of course. For a moment, Noire had fancied that she might somehow be heard. But no one ever listened to her – no one but herself. Herself, and herself, and herself…

Slowly, she rose to her feet, her eyes unblinking. That tension she had felt upon nearly lashing out against Neptune now came back in full force, tearing against every part of her body.

"You should be resting right now."

Noire had to stop herself from slicing at the air with a non-existent sword as she jumped back away from the voice. "Blanc?! Where have you _been?!_ " The words came out a little hoarse.

"I could ask you the same question. But it's not important."

"'Not important?!'"

Blanc's face was as stoic as ever, but the dark bags beneath her eyes were hard to miss. "You should calm down. We'll need to conserve our energy for the days to come."

"Says _you,_ sneaking out on your own!"

The slightest hint of annoyance became visible on Blanc's brow. "Come, Noire – let's head back to the hideout."

Noire crossed her arms, being sure to stand right in the way. "No. I want to know what's going on. With you. With…with me. With all of us." She found it difficult to keep her gaze locked onto Blanc's eyes.

If one listened very closely, they could hear the tiny sigh that Blanc let out. "I've already tried to tell you. You're going to _piss me off_ if you keep bugging me."

The two exchanged glares for one long, tense moment. Finally, Noire lowered her arms, stepping aside. "Fine. But _you're_ going to at least apologize for making me come look for you."

"Sorry." It was spoken quickly, without hesitation or sincerity. Her next words were barely audible – something about "shouldn't have bothered."

The noise that came from Noire was unmistakably one of frustration. "I was _worried_ about you, Blanc!"

The CPU of Lowee had been in the process of walking by to take the lead, but she spun on her heel to face Noire at this exclamation. "Why?"

"Because I…" The words trailed off, Noire's mind abruptly hitting a roadblock.

Blanc didn't bother sticking around to wait for Noire to form a response.

" _Pfft_ ," Noire breathed, turning her head aside. " _Fine_ , then. Fall into a pit of spikes, for all I care."

If Blanc heard those muttered words, she gave no indication, merely continuing to walk away at an unbroken pace. Eventually, though, she stopped to look over her shoulder. "Are you coming or not?"

"Why should I?"

Those words seemed to hang in the air as a silence fell over them. Blanc turned to face Noire, stepping forward to close the gap between the two. As before, they simply gazed at one another, unblinking.

Blanc decided that she was tired of their little staring contest around the time her eye started to twitch. "We don't have time for you to be a stubborn bitch. Let's go."

The statement had been spoken quietly, but the effect it had on Noire was not subtle. She sucked in a breath, her eyes growing wide as her hands balled into fists. Yet, her lips remained sealed, being pressed into a thin line.

A twinge of fear actually managed to go through the CPU of Lowee. While it went against every single one of Blanc's instincts, she knew it would be smart to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. "We have to stick together, Noire. The people of this world need—"

Blanc was interrupted by a loud, wordless cry from Lastation's goddess, who leapt forward to lunge at her Loweean counterpart. The two fell together in a confusing tangle to the ground. Blanc felt the back of her head impact the sidewalk, and before she could even try to recover from the pain, she found a pair of tiny hands clamping around her throat with astonishing strength.

The two of them had been in more than a few fights before, given that they had long been combatants in the Console War. Yet, they had never before resorted to brawling in such a basic, primal manner. This was a form of combat not at all befitting of beings who called themselves goddesses – but there was hardly time to think about that as Blanc struggled to pry Noire away from her.

Even in their human forms, the CPUs were formidable fighters, possessing strength far beyond what their slender bodies should reasonably provide. Incidentally, Blanc happened to have the most disproportionate level of physical prowess of them all. As soon as she managed to tear Noire's hands away, Blanc pressed the offensive, grabbing the side of Noire's head and slamming her face into the ground. Blanc rolled away and rose to her feet, noting that Noire had recovered almost instantly, a scratch just barely visible on her forehead.

The two stood panting for a moment after their brief scrap, their blood pumping and ready for more. This was an all-too-familiar feeling for the goddesses, having battled one another for so many centuries – and they reveled in it. Why had they ever stopped? They were born for battle, weren't they? It would be so delightful to smash that perfect face until it was no longer recognizable, leaving all of those Lastation citizens to cry over the body of their oh-so-overrated idol—

Blanc shook her head, knowing that her thoughts were clouding with rage and adrenaline. No matter how much she wanted to give Noire what-for, they couldn't afford to ignite a new war between themselves. Blanc reached a hand up, belatedly realizing that her hat had fallen from her head. She took a few quick glances around in search for it.

In the next moment, she found herself back on the ground, her cheek pressed against the sidewalk. A terrible ache was shooting through her head – she clenched her teeth, waiting for the pain to pass. Eventually, she managed to open her eyes. Through blurry vision, she could just make out the shape of someone hurrying away, the sound of their boots against the pavement muffled in her ears.

Some time passed before realization struck – after which a terrible fury burned away any hint of pain.

 _I owe her one. And she's going to feel it when I catch her._


	15. Employee of the Month

There were many ways to commit heresy in the land of the Goddess. Arranging unsanctioned public gatherings, committing assault or murder against a fellow denizen, and cursing Her name in earshot of a crotchety old lady were perhaps some of the more well-known.

But none were quite so lucrative as idolatry.

Jebediah's third greatest wish was to go back in time and tell himself this sooner. His second greatest wish was to have been born with a different name.

His greatest wish was to have been born as a magical girl. But he didn't tell his friends about that one.

They might get upset at the thought of him running them out of business.

He took in a deep, deliberate breath, feeling the staleness enter his lungs. "Ahhhhh…" He let out the breath just as slowly. "Never change, Leanbox. I'm lovin' ya right now. _Lovin'_ ya!" He took a few moments to stretch and flex the various parts of his body, letting each limb make an audible _pop_. Something told him that it was weird for him to be so loosy-goosy. But why shouldn't he be? The Festival was going. Money was flowing. Life was good.

Oh, _man,_ the Festival. It was always fun to see what kinds of new customers this time of the year would bring. People of all stripes came running to the city with their wallets full of credits – real paper credits! And metal ones, too! Where did they even make that stuff anymore? He remembered hearing somewhere that the metal used in the cheapest type of change was worth more than the coin itself. But, of course, you weren't supposed to melt it down. That was against the law.

Not that the customers cared much about that whole "law" business.

Speaking of which, it looked like he had a potential customer approaching right now. He always liked to size people up before he talked to them – it was a good sales technique, of course, but his curiosity was the real driving force there. A girl, huh? She looked awfully young. And dressed up all fancy just like some character in a comic! How brazen! Was she a _fan_ girl, maybe? Ka-ching!

"Excuse me, miss! Would you perhaps be interested in perusing the services of the Idlers Inn? Good food, live music, and an excellent place to lay your head when it grows weary!" He handed a paper from a stack on the little table next to him.

The girl accepted it with dull eyes. She scanned over the text of the flyer before looking up, handing it back to Jebediah. "I'm not interested."

This was always the hardest part. "Ah! Such a young lass should not be ailed with such a disheartened state! Allow the Idlers Inn to lift the pout that has found itself upon your delicate lips! Satisfaction is guaranteed, I must add!"

A few steps had already been taken by the girl as if she intended to ignore good ol' Jeb, but she eventually stopped in her tracks and twisted around on her heel. "Alright. Fine. I need a place to sleep, anyway."

"Splendid! You will not be disappointed – this, I swear to thee!" Hm. He may have laid it on a little too thick. Maybe he should work on getting the accent right, at least. He'd never been great at rolling his R's.

Either way, he was past the first hurdle. He held open the door to the innocuously titled Idlers Inn, noting the eye roll he got from the girl as he did so. Such a cold, indifferent air emanated from one with such a beautiful aura. Had he been mistaken? Was this girl not a mere customer, but, in fact, a potential candidate? Would he be so lucky as to stumble upon such a being on this long, long night? Typically, his next step would be to follow the customer and direct them to the services they sought, but he could feel the delicacy of the ice upon which he now tread. He must not frighten the game now!

The inside of the inn was normal enough – for someone seeking a nightclub, at least. It hardly looked like the kind of place where one might find rest, its neo-retro design being made to appeal to those who yearned for an era that had never existed. Clean and smooth was the name of the night, the interior being painted in large geometric patterns that seemed to glow in the dim, heady atmosphere. Lines of light ran across the floor and walls, pulsing with occasional beads of energy to the beat of the music currently being played live by a band upon the stage to the side. The beat was driving and heavy, but while many other clubs found throughout Leanbox relied upon such a rhythm to entertain its guests, the volume of the instruments and percussion were toned down ever so slightly here. After all, how else would one hear the melodious lyrics currently being sung by the fancifully clad girl at the front of the stage? Her presence was such that it was difficult to peel one's eyes away long enough to notice the two others serving as backing vocalists, let alone the three other musicians handling the instrumentation.

The candidate seemed to pause just inside the entrance for a while as if to take it all in. Not much of a party girl, was she? Weird. She looked foreign, and he knew for a fact that Lastation's night life was the wildest in all of the Union, as much as they liked to pretend otherwise.

The girl was making her way over to the bar directly across the room from the entrance, but it was clear from her gait that she was lacking in confidence. He'd need to keep a watchful eye on this one.

"My, my. You look lost, my dear." A patron who happened to be seated at a table near the bar had taken note of the newcomer. The patron was an older woman, apparently possessing a fair amount of wealth, judging by the make of her slim, ankle-length dress and the array of jewelry arranged around her neck and wrists. Most of the Inn's visitors had plenty of cash, but few liked to show it off like Camilla. Unlike many ladies of prominence, she kept her hair free, the long, black strands running to about halfway down her back in a silky cascade.

The girl paused in her tracks when she realized someone was speaking to her. She exchanged a few pleasantries with Camilla before sitting down at the table with the woman.

"So…an all-girl band, huh?" the candidate asked, propping one arm on the back of her chair.

"Yes. They're quite something, aren't they?" Camilla's head turned toward the stage, one corner of her mouth tilted upward. "Beautiful – true works of art, one could say. Such attention to detail – such perfect proportions. Their leader dressed in the most flattering of attires, as if an artist wished to direct attention to her first, to have one's eyes meet those behind her at exactly the pace desired. And each and every one of them – a feast for the eyes, indeed. To have the smallest sliver of the thigh exposed at just the correct height…to have the bust hidden beneath an attire that highlights it just so…" She moved her attention back to the girl next to her. "Quite scandalous, would you not agree?"

A nervous laugh came from the candidate, although the sound was drowned out by the music. "They're…pretty. I'll give them that much."

Camilla raised a brow as if in surprise. "'Pretty?' Is that all? But I suppose you believe they must pale in comparison to yourself, hm?"

"I…"

The wolfish grin Camilla was giving the candidate was making Jeb a little uncomfortable. Camilla leaned forward, placing her hands together on the table. "You should be careful, dear girl. One just might mistake you for a CPU yourself with that lovely face of yours."

By this point, the candidate was looking around as if for an avenue of escape – anything to avoid locking eyes with the woman in front of her. Jeb could swear that the girl had turned a few shades paler, although it was hard to tell with the lights glaring and flashing as they were. The girl suddenly stood, pushing her chair back in the same motion. "I-I'm sorry. I think I need to leave."

Uh-oh. Jeb had seen what Camilla did to people who turned her down. Jebediah started making his way across the room as Camilla stood to match the girl, but before he could take more than a few steps, he saw something else moving in from the corner of his eye.

Double uh-oh. There was no mistaking the big guy in the big black suit. One of the Inn's bouncers had taken notice, entering the scene from the shadows in a corner of the room. Jeb had seen what Camilla did to big guys in big suits, too. It was a good thing Camilla had a lot (A LOT) of money, because they probably wouldn't have let her back in, otherwise.

"Camilla, Camilla, Camilla," the bouncer said as he approached, lights of various shades reflecting off his indoor sunglasses. "We told ya to play nice once already, didn't we?"

The woman's own eyes narrowed. "I am merely having a pleasant conversation, as I am sure she can attest to. Is that not right, dear?"

A moment passed before the girl nodded vigorously. "Y-Yes. Just a conversation."

Another moment passed as Camilla stared into the bouncer's sunglasses, as if intending to kill him with a glare.

"Today's not a Fraternizing Friday," said the man. "We ain't got those during the Festival, and you know that."

" _Oh-ho,_ " Camilla scoffed. "Then perhaps you should keep a better eye on your personnel, hm, Morty?"

Jeb wasn't quite sure how Camilla had recognized the bouncer, since he sure hadn't been able to tell who was behind those glasses. Morty stared at the woman for another few seconds before turning to the candidate next to her. "Huh. We didn't get any new girls in recently, did we?" He scratched his head in an obvious sign of confusion. "What's your name?"

"A-Ah…Nowa. I-I mean Noire. It's Noire!"

"Noire…" the man mumbled to himself. "Who's your registered owner?"

"Eh?"

"No owner, then, huh? That's weird. Maybe a runaway? Got your memory wiped or somethin' and just wandered off? Can I get a manufacturer? A serial number, at least?"

The CPU was looking an awful lot like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes glancing between Camilla and Morty as if hoping answers would be provided for her.

Morty let out a groan. "Guess I gots some work ta do, then." He reached a giant hand out as if to grab the girl's arm, but she slipped away from his grasp with surprising reflexes.

"D-Don't touch me. You might regret it." Noire was trying to form her face into a glare, but it came across as more uncertain than angry.

"Hey, now. That's different. Did some idiot program ya for military specs?" Morty took a step back. "Aw, crap. You didn't _kill_ the guy who bought ya, I hope."

Camilla was already standing a safe distance away, arms crossed, watching the scene play out with some amusement. "My, my. That is quite a hole in your security, is it not? I believe that I am feeling less safe already. Perhaps I will be taking my money elsewhere…"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, _Your Highness._ " Morty dropped into something resembling a fighter's stance, meaty arms ready to grapple an opponent. "Come on, Noire. No need to make this tougher than it's gotta be. Just…hold…still!"

He lunged forward, reaching for the CPU once again, but he stumbled forward into the bar when she jumped to the side with a little spin, neatly dodging his grab.

A murmur was beginning to rise around them – some of the patrons had noticed the commotion. Not good. Jeb pressed a hand to his forehead, running it down his face. Why did this kind of thing _always_ seem to happen on _his_ shift? It really put a damper on his mood.

In the next moment, Jeb felt someone collide with him, nearly knocking him over until he recovered by pushing on a nearby table. " _OW!_ Watch where you're going!"

His anger quickly receded when he turned to see the source of the collision. There, sprawled on the ground in front of him was the bringer of the current trouble befalling the Inn – she must've bumped into him by accident. The girl was reaching for a chair to pull herself up, her face twisted into a tear-stained grimace. The attempt she made was slow, and she succeeded only in rising to a sitting position on the floor before pausing to catch her breath.

Huh. That didn't seem much like the behavior of a military CPU to him. Then again, he'd never seen a military CPU before, so what did he know?

"Get her, Jeb!"

Oh, right. He wasn't a bouncer, but he was still an employee. And he'd be in big (BIG) trouble if a CPU just ran right out the door. She didn't seem to like the whole grabby thing, though. The way she was acting, she seemed a lot more like just a candidate to him, but if they said she was a CPU, then she was a CPU. He wasn't an expert on CPUs, so what did he know? "Hey, uh…miss. Sorry, but you need to stay here."

"What…are you talking…about?" Noire spoke with gritted teeth. "I'm getting…the heck…out of here! And what was…with that…ridiculous accent…before?"

"Oh, right. Ahem!" Jeb cleared his throat and dropped to a knee, raising his arms in theatrical fashion. "I doth beseech thee, madame! Do stay thine flight, forsooth! For who shall be one to tell what horrors await thee outside? Not I, this I must say!"

Noire was clearly not amused. That hadn't been the intent, anyway. Her annoyed expression suddenly became one of agony for a split second before she fell back to the floor, completely limp. At that very same moment, a sensation most terrible pressed itself upon Jebediah, as if a heavy cube of ice had fallen into his stomach and frozen him from the inside. Thankfully, the wave of nausea passed as quickly as it had come.

Morty rose to his feet to study his handiwork. "Nice one, Jeb. Turns out you're useful for somethin', at least."

"I am but a humble servant, to serve thee as whatever thine sees fit! If thouest shall have me serve as distraction, then so be it!"

"Yeah, yeah, you're real funny, Jeb. Just be glad she didn't get her hands on ya."

Jeb gave a deep bow like that of a performer. "Ah, but should the worry be not upon myself, but upon the fair lady who now lies before us?"

"This 'fair lady' is anything but. Don't kid yourself." Morty took a moment to fiddle with the device in his hand before placing it on his belt, the red-tipped prongs of the stun gun shimmering in the varied lighting of the Inn. "Uhg. Hate usin' this thing. Gives me the willies."


	16. Their Goddess, Part I

"H-Hello? I-I'm…I'm 2D."

 _It was no secret among the many advisors and assistants present at the Basilicom of Planeptune that sleep had long been a fickle beast for the Goddess of Gamindustri. Why would a creation of unknowable divine power be subject to the laws of mortalkind? Was this not an incredible oversight in Her design? Or was it possible that this was a very intentional choice? It was true that, despite their many differences, both Goddess- and mortalkind alike shared in their bafflement at the idea that so much time must be spent lying in one's bed—_

"Hello. I'm 2D."

 _There was a simple answer provided by scientists who preferred to distance themselves from philosophical quandaries – the share. Even the Goddess would find Herself exhausted from drawing upon the share in order to sustain Her existence for every moment of Her life. Ergo, even a divine being must sleep in order to regain the energy necessary to maintain Herself. Why the act of using the share drained one's energy was a subject of constant research. This research often found it lumped into the same category as studies of magic, which was commonly believed by those on the edge of heresy to come from the same source—_

"Good morning. I'm 2D."

 _Of course, while some sought after quantifiable results, as fleeting as they were in the clandestine realm of the arcane arts, others spent their time musing over the nature of the share – in particular, how it related to the form that the Goddess wore. Few who had been fortunate enough to lay eyes upon Her would disagree that She was a paragon of grace, serving as a prime model for human standards of beauty. But why did She bear such striking resemblance to Her worshippers? Such a question could not be easily answered with facts and numbers. Many who managed to wrack their brain to the point of asking this question decided that humankind was created in the image of Goddesskind, or that She and the humans came from the same mysterious source. Others who found their brooding turning to darker thoughts wondered if the Goddess chose to present Herself in a way that humans would find agreeable—_

"Good morning, mistress. I am 2D."

Eyes fluttered open, still bleary from what seemed to be some form of sleep.

"Awake?"

Those eyes blinked a few more times, the redness revealing itself to be a natural color. They grew wide when awareness struck. Then, the mouth flew open, letting out a flurry of muffled yells.

" _Shhhhh._ "

Noire had managed to make the transition from the uneasy peace of sleep to full-blown panic by this point, thrashing against the weight that was pressing against her. She had acted purely by instinct, and her conscious mind was taking its time catching up, bringing to her images of a woman leaning down over top of her, one hand placed over Noire's mouth, the other upon her hip. Unfortunately, either Noire's strength was failing her, or her opponent was far stronger than appearances would suggest.

The woman grabbed Noire's arms by the wrists to stop their flailing. "You are uncomfortable with this contact."

Noire was struck by the odd manner-of-fact tone this was stated in before the woman suddenly rose to stand straight up next to the full-size bed. It was then that Noire was struck by something else entirely. "You're the singer? Th-The one from…"

"No. I am 2D."

Memory was being more fickle than ever at the moment for the CPU of Lastation. Really, though, she was finding it quite difficult to concentrate on anything at all while her eyes took in the sight beside her.

2D's expression remained startlingly blank as she pressed her hands against the front of her skirt in a bashful pose, her head tilted away. "Please do not stare, mistress." Yet, a sharp eye may have noticed that, even as she said this, she clenched her hands, ever so slightly expanding the pinched territory above her thigh-high socks.

It just so happened that Noire's eyes were quite sharp. The gulf between the various emotions running through her could only manifest itself in a violent shiver. "D-Don't call me that. It's creepy."

A few moments passed, the woman remaining completely still as if locked in place. Then, a stiff nod was given. "Affirmative." 2D's posture relaxed into a more neutral stance, her prior bashfulness now seemingly having dissipated. "You are Noire."

The goddess was hoping that her brain would finally get its act together and make sense of just what was happening at the current point in time, but it seemed as if she would need to be taking manual control. She forced herself to rise to a sitting position, an act which she almost immediately regretted as a dozen aches and pains shot through her. It was difficult for her to even describe the level of fatigue she was experiencing – her mind was as active as ever, but her physical form was lethargic, being sluggish to react to her commands. And her neck was so very stiff…

"Noire has sustained damage. Suggestion: Noire should rest to recover."

If this woman – who really appeared no less youthful than Noire herself – had seemed robotic before, then now the uncanny valley was growing uncomfortably close to being realized.

"2D will provide refreshments. Please stand by." The young woman suddenly stepped over to the one door present in the tiny room, turned to give a practiced curtsy, and then turned again to step outside.

"W-Wait!" By the time Noire had even spoken up, the woman was already closing the door behind her.

Nearly a minute passed by before Noire's eyes tore themselves away from the solid dark wood of the door. She drew in a breath as she did so, not having realized that she'd been holding it. Pressing a hand to her chest, she closed her eyes, beginning a steady, controlled rhythm of further breaths. Eventually, the rapid beats against her fingers began to slow to a more reasonable pace.

 _How often must you use such a technique, I wonder?_

Her senses were growing clearer, having been previously clouded by distraction. Soon, she was able to pick apart the nature of the sounds meeting her ears. In the distance, she could hear the muffled beat of music, possessing just enough bass to be felt as well as heard. There was a quiet hum closer to her, perhaps being produced by some form of ventilation system. Beneath these obvious noises was the chaotic chorus of a dozen voices, too faint and discordant to pick out any particular conversation – except for one.

"…right this way, my friend. Only a scant few seconds remain before you shall be presented with the treasure of a lifetime!"

Noire's heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice. And she was becoming more and more certain about just where she was – although she still had to wonder why the room she was within bore the appearance of a high-class manor's bedroom.

"And here we are! Ah, but such a collection must seem paltry to the eyes of a connoisseur such as yourself—"

"N-No no no! This is…this is _awesome!_ Uh…uh…oh man…where did you people even _find_ this stuff?"

Noire raised a brow. She knew that voice too.

"Now, now, Jake, my dear friend. _That_ is a _secret,_ as you should well know." A few moments passed, some words being spoken too quietly to be understood. There came the sounds of rummaging – through drawers, cabinets, piles of paper, noisy bags of plastic…

"Holy crap!" Some stomping upon hard flooring could be heard. "How much for this?!"

"Ah! That is quite the eye for quality you have there, friend."

By this point, Noire had managed to slide her way out of bed…and promptly fell to the floor with a yelp that would've drawn more than a few snickers if anyone had been watching. It was as if some of her muscles simply refused to respond, having been overtaken with numbness. Gritting her teeth, she eventually managed to force herself to her feet, feeling returning all too slowly to the various parts of her body. She limp-shuffled across the floor as fast as she could, throwing herself toward the door with all the grace of a drunken ballerina. A breathless moment passed – she'd made quite the _thump_ in her attempt at eavesdropping.

Then, a laugh cut the apparent silence. "Please, you must understand, my friend, that this particular item is quite valuable, even among so many other items of great value. I am afraid that it will cost you far more than most are willing – or even capable – of giving up."

"Y-You're willing to barter, right? Look, I'll give you something worth even more than this!"

Noire could swear that she heard someone take in a sharp breath.

"Is…is this…a signed…"

"Yes! Yes it is!"

A pause. "I am afraid that such a trade is… _quite_ imbalanced in value, my friend." The laugh that followed was far more uneasy than the previous.

"No, no! You…you don't understand! You _have_ to take this!"

"Oh." The jovial tone in the man's voice faded, his speech dropping in volume. "Let us not mince words, my friend. This item in your possession is of… _incredible_ value. It is _so_ valuable, in fact, that it is worth more than one's life. And _that_ is simply not a price that we can afford. I am sorry."

"Then where can I take this thing? I-I know it's too dangerous to keep around. But it's worth too much to just…smash it! It's practically a historical artifact!"

"Hm. Well, perhaps for a valued customer such as yourself—"

There was the sound of a door opening and closing in the distance.

"Ah. Hello there. You are…2D, yes?"

"Yes. I am 2D."

A chuckle. "I hope the lucky customer is quite satisfied by your service. Well? Do carry on, young lady."

"What is that?"

"Now, now. You should know better than to pry into things that are none of your concern."

"Okay."

Footsteps were approaching – heels clicking upon the floor.

A knock at the door resounded through Noire's room. "I have returned."

The door swung open with the slightest of creaks.

2D stood motionless in the doorway, a tray of the promised refreshments occupying her hands. "Mistr—Noire? Are you present?" Her eyes scanned over the room, confirming that no one was around. "Friend?" 2D's shoulders sunk ever so slightly, the weight in her hands suddenly seeming a little heavier. "Okay…"

Just when the girl was about to turn and head back into the hall, she heard a voice. "I'm right here."

2D's senses oriented themselves toward the lone armoire occupying a corner of the room. The doors were open. She set her tray upon the bed before asking, "Is Noire playing hide and seek?"

"Ah…no." Noire stepped back from the armoire, hands pressed upon her hips in a displeased fashion. "What happened to my clothes? I can't seem to find them."

2D gave a little bow. "2D must apologize for not informing Noire on this subject. Noire's original clothing has been transferred to the washing department. New clothing was provided as appropriate."

"'Washing department?!'" Noire took a look down at the attire she now wore – a simple spring dress doubling as a sort of nightgown, the pale blue material reaching to her knees. A shiver went through her at the logical conclusion that someone had to have handled dressing her while she was unconscious. "I-I need that outfit back! An iconic look is essential for a godde—er…" She choked off her own words before clearing her throat. "It doesn't need to be washed, either. It's enchanted to resist almost anything. In fact, tossing it into a washing machine might create some kind of bubbly disaster!" She didn't add that she had learned that last bit the hard way.

"'Enchanted?' 2D does not understand."

Noire's mouth clamped shut as she considered her next words. "I'll worry about it later, then. In the meantime, I'm going to need something a little more…" How odd. She wasn't quite sure just what word she had intended to end that sentence with.

 _Flattering._

 _Practical._

 _Enticing._

 _Modest._

 _A mere gust of wind from a wardrobe malfunction._

 _No._

"Does Noire not find the presented selection to her liking?"

The goddess reached over to grab an outfit from the armoire, then stepped back to hold it in sight. The garb dangling from the hangar was a far cry from Noire's dress, appearing much like a cross between a maid's uniform and a pop idol's stage attire. "Not exactly."

 _I see. Too subservient. Perhaps something a little more mature—_

 _Would you quit arguing with me already…me?_

 _Hah. Why not stick to the familiar, then, hm? You always did love the tempting purity of absolute territory, did you not? Ah, but a new demographic could be obtained with the added spice of—_

 _You know what? I'll keep what I have. It's comfortable, at least._

 _Oh. What a pity. But you will still need to acquire some form of footwear, hm? I do not suppose a goddess' soles will last long walking upon concrete and asphalt._

Noire held back a groan to prevent herself from sounding like a tired old woman as she stooped down to examine the choices there, which consisted of quite of the exotic variety. _Platforms…heels…wedges…and whatever THAT is. Nothing that's good for anything more than looking cute._ She made a little sigh. _I suppose these sandals will have to do. Nobody thinks "casual" when they picture the goddess of Lastation, but here I am. Eheh._

 _I am sure that Neptune would find it quite to her liking._

 _I'm not looking to impress her._

"2D apologizes. This armoire is intended to provide a limited selection for customers to choose for their CPUs."

There was more than just one part of that sentence that struck Noire as strange. She stood up, having finished slipping on the selected footwear. "What do you—"

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, which had incidentally been left wide open. A somewhat familiar face popped in. "Ah. 2D? Is our newest addition sufficiently prepared to receive guests?"

"2D is not sure," said the girl, shrugging.

"Hm. We will have to see, then." The salesman stepped back to usher someone else into the room. A young man – barely more than a boy – entered, a sheepish grin on his face. "E-Excuse me. I couldn't help but ask…can I…" He took a step forward, his eyes meeting Noire's. " _Wow,_ " he breathed, his expression turning into one of incredulity. "I know these guys are devoted, but a Noire _CPU?_ And you look so _real!_ "

"What?! O-Of _course_ I'm real, idiot!"

"Wow! And she _sounds_ just like the real thing, too! Man, they get real marks on their accuracy!" The man took another few steps closer, raising a hand toward Noire's arm. "Hm…kind of hard to tell how well they modelled the body, though. Maybe in a better outfit…"

Before the man could even get close to touching Noire, she had grabbed his wrist and tightened her fingers to a vice grip. "And just what do you think you're doing?!" For a split second, the idea of crushing his hand occurred to her, but she instead let go of him, taking a step back.

"Ah, right. I guess I'm not set to be your customer just yet, huh?"

" _Aahhhhhhh!_ " Noire raised her hands, pulling at her hair – she belatedly noticed that it was no longer bound into twin-tails. "What the hell is this 'customer' nonsense about?!"

The salesman made a nervous chuckle. "She is still…settling in, as I am sure you can see. Perhaps it is best not to bother her just yet, no? She is not yet ready for service, after all—"

"' _SERVICE?!_ '" The CPU's eyes were just about to burst into flame at this point.

"Say, uh…Jeb," began the man who'd so rudely invaded Noire's personal space. "Do you think there's something wrong with this one? You guys have ways of resetting them when they start acting funny, right?"

"Indeed we do, friend," said the salesman. "It appears that this model may be in need of adjustment. We have only just received her today, in fact."

"Hm…" The young man's gaze moved downward, his brow furrowing as if he was pondering something. He turned to Jeb, asking, "Can I give her a test run, maybe?"

The salesman's mouth twisted while he considered this. "I am not sure if that is wise. _But,_ if you are eager, then it can be arranged. I suppose your payment has been more than sufficient for such a request."

"A-Are you serious? I can?! Awesome!" The man practically jumped in excitement. "Oh man…"

Jeb nodded, placing a hand on the doorknob. "2D? Let us leave these two be."

2D gave a stiff bow. "Of course, master." She stepped over to the door, ducking beneath Jeb's arm to exit.

The salesman flashed his client a charming smile. "Please, do enjoy yourselves."

And with that, the door closed, leaving the remaining two occupants of the room in silence.

Very, very awkward silence.


	17. Their Goddess, Part II

It was the young man who spoke first. "S-So…um…I _can_ call you Noire, right?"

Noire fought to keep her expression neutral. "Sure."

"Alright, Noire. I'm—"

"Jake."

The man's brow raised in clear surprise. "You know who I am? Whoa. Did they program you that fast?"

"We've met before."

"W-We have?"

"Of course. I signed your console, remember?"

Jake's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. His mouth opened, his jaw shaking visibly, before he clamped it shut.

Noire pressed a hand to her forehead, no longer able to hold back a heavy sigh. "I guess you might almost be as confused as I am." She sat upon the bed, her gaze staring off toward the wall. "I know why you're here, though. That much is obvious."

A moment passed as Jake's mortification only grew. "Eh?! D-Don't get the wrong idea, Noire! _L-Lady_ Noire!"

The CPU slowly turned her head to face Jake. "What sort of idea should I have when a young man asks to be alone with a pretty girl he's obsessed with?"

"You…" Jake tugged at the collar of his shirt, his face growing redder by the moment. "Y-You're not…the real Noire…are you?"

Noire's neutral façade finally dropped into a glare. "Hmph! As if that would change the way you view me! Like a slave! A doll!"

"I-I…"

"I'm not an idiot. I know _exactly_ what people want from me – what they want to see from me. I wouldn't still be alive, otherwise." Noire took a moment to blink away an errant tear, wiping her face clear with a hand. "It's just something else to add to the to-do list."

"W-What? But you do _so_ much more than just… _that!_ You're awesome, Lady Noire! You're not just the prettiest! You're the smartest, and the toughest, and the hardest working, and—"

"And all of that is a lie. One that you ate right up along with everyone else."

Jake seemed too stunned to even utter a response, his mouth opening and closing without a word.

 _Oh? What purpose is there in dispelling your own illusion, CPU of Lastation? Surely you realize that this path leads to your demise?_

Noire didn't particularly care too much about that. What she did know is that it felt good to vent for once. Indeed, it had been a long time coming for the lonely goddess of Lastation. "I spend every single waking moment ensuring that I don't let it slip even a single time that I'm not as perfect as everyone thinks. That's on _top_ of running an entire nation, _and_ defending it from any threats it might face. It's no _wonder_ they call me a goddess! Anyone else would think it's _impossible!_ "

"B-But…isn't that what you were created to—"

" _Yes._ It is." Noire's gaze softened a bit before turning away. "It's true that I don't have any say in the matter. Without the shares, I die. And, _of course,_ the only way to get shares in times of peace is to please people like _you._ " She winced as she pushed herself to her feet and turned toward Jake, taking a step toward him. "It's not enough that I work myself to the bone just to keep everyone safe and fed, is it? I have to be your precious idol, too, don't I?"

Jake blinked as he realized that the question didn't seem to be rhetorical. He figured he should probably answer before she decided to bite his head off or something. "Th-That's not true—"

Noire placed her hands on her hips, tilting them provocatively. "If it's not true, then why are you here?"

"U-Um…I was just here to buy some things…"

"Oh?" The CPU raised a brow. "Can you show me, then? I'm sure you wouldn't mind answering a request from your goddess, would you?"

"N-Not at all." Jake gulped. "R-Right this way, Lady Noire." The man stepped over to the door, opening it and taking a peek outside to find that the hallway was clear. He then swung the door further open, allowing Noire to step through, who shot him an odd look. Her stride as she walked down the hall with crossed arms was a slow, exaggerated strut – unbeknownst to him, she was doing so almost unconsciously, but it only served to further the feeling of shame that was starting to creep upon him.

They stopped after a fairly short distance in front of another nondescript door. "It's in here," said Jake, whose legs were beginning to tremble. "A-After you."

Noire stepped inside, her brow raising as she took in the wondrous sights of the room around her. There was hardly even room to walk, packed full of merchandise as it was. Games, figurines, and comics were just the beginning – lining every shelf, scattered across every table, could be found all manner of items catering to eclectic tastes. From the innocuous to the intensely lewd and everything in between…official, unofficial, common, and rare…

 _Just like home, eh?_

The goddess took a moment to examine a stack of art books, her eyes glazed over as if in the midst of a sleepwalk. Given the paleness of her skin and the dress draped over her, one wouldn't be remiss for mistaking her for a ghost.

 _Aesthetics of Gamindustri. Anatomy of a Goddess. The Megami: Worshipping Our Lovely Ladies. Noire: October Edition._

Her eye twitched a little.

 _Noire: November Edition._

 _Noire: December Edition._

 _Noire: Catgirl Special Edition!_

 _Someone's popular._

She flipped open one of the rather thick books, its hard-backed cover making a muted _thump_ against the table.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in that. And the hips are too wide here. Sheesh. Do any of these artists know a thing about proportions? It's not as if they don't have my measurements."

A morbid sense of curiosity went through her as she turned to the first page. Interestingly, there was a write-up present there.

 _NOTE FROM THE CURATOR:_

 _A huge thank you to all of those who know who the best girl in Gamindustri is! Let's continue to show our support for our twin-tailed tsundere GODDESS! (´_ _・_ _ω_ _・｀_ _)_

 _P.S. Don't think we forgot about Uni the cutie! We included her this time, we swear!_

Beneath it was a relatively crude sketch of Noire and her sister, their faces beaming with joy.

 _Uni. That was her name._

Noire closed the book, turning her attention to another beside it.

 _The Anonydeath Collection Mk II._

"D-Don't look at that!" Jake had finally worked up the nerve to approach Noire, although he stopped short of his intention of snatching away the book in her hands.

"Eh? Why not?" Noire opened the book as she said this. "It's a…photo album?"

While the previous works had contained entirely fictional depictions, this one was the real deal. So very many photographs of the tsundere goddess were present between the covers of a book that strangely lacked any sort of text whatsoever beyond the title. At work, at play, in lingerie, in cosplay, at the beach, in the bath, with her sister, with dozens of people she didn't recognize, in every possible pose, from every possible angle…

Her eyes skipped over countless photos of questionable origin to stop on one in particular.

All four of the goddesses of Gamindustri were present within the picture, showing the scene of what must have been a secluded hot spring somewhere in the snowy hills of Lowee. All four were completely bared to the world, as well, leaving little question about the exact shape of their proportions. Noire was standing in quite the feminine posture, one hand upon her hip, the other flicking away a strand of hair. Upon her face sat a confident smirk. Her gaze was pointed straight at Neptune, whose arms were raised as if she was in the middle of a temper tantrum, splashing water all over. To one side sat Vert, chuckling to herself with a hand raised to her lips. On the opposite side sat Blanc, whose brow was furrowed, clearly just as annoyed at the display as Neptune.

Noire could easily guess what had led to the circumstances in the picture. Yet, having a candid look at herself in such a way was…odd.

 _This is what they see. What they worship. What they crave._

She took a step back, glancing around the room once more. Material of all sorts was present, although the majority concerned itself with goddesses. And Noire easily took up half of the CPU-related goods, given the near-total lack of anything to do with the Planeptune CPUs.

It was impossible for her to understand what she was even feeling at the moment. She knew she should be angry. Disgusted. Outraged. Or maybe even proud. Instead, she found herself with some kind of detached fascination, perhaps brought on by the fatigue pressing down on her.

 _None of this is me. The Noire in all of this is some other person I never knew. Yet…she's laughing. Smiling. Arguing. Working herself to death. Showing herself off. Doing everything exactly as I would._

 _Is every Noire like this?_

 _Is every Noire fated to be a goddess? To earn the adoration of her followers? To become an object of desire?_

 _I'm sick of this._

 _You hate this._

 _I've always hated it. But I'm not allowed to hate it._

 _Ah, but just what_ is _it that you hate so, hm?_

"N-Noire?"

 _He wants this. They all want this. But not me. They want Noire. They want Black Heart. They want their twin-tailed goddess._

 _They want exactly what you make them want. Such a tease, you are._

… _I suppose I am._

As Noire closed the photo album and continued her exploration, her attention was caught by one game in particular that had been pulled out from a bin full of them. She chuckled to herself when she realized what it was.

 _Hyperdevotion Noire Re;Birth HD Remaster: Ultra Devotion Edition._

"Eh? Isn't this what you were looking for earlier?" Noire asked, turning to face Jake with the game's case on display in her hand.

"Y-Yeah." Jake rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Hmm…'Includes limited edition Noire/Black Heart hug pillow,'" said Noire, reading from the case. She flipped it over to continue. "'Brand new HD remaster in 16k resolution to bring you even closer to the goddess Black Heart than ever before…Over 55 new cutscenes with the lovable goddess of Lastation…All new uncensored artwork, including hot new remasters of old favorites…'"

Jake flinched with every statement she read off.

Noire set aside the case, raising a brow. "'Ultra Devotion Edition,' eh?" She seemed to study Jake for a moment, crossing her arms and stepping one foot back, her head tilted. "So how _did_ you happen to learn of a game like this, exactly?"

"U-Um…" The man's face blanched. "So, one day, I was looking for…artwork…on this site some friends recommended, and…"

The goddess' lips curled into a grin that was equal parts creepy and coy. "You happened to find out all about me and my measurements? Oh, but they never do remember the birthmark on my inner thigh, though. I guess our 'lovable goddess' can't possibly have any blemishes, eh?" Her humorless grin grew a little wider. "Would you like to see it? Hm? You'd be the only one in the world to know about it. How does _that_ sound?"

Somehow, Jake managed to grow even paler. "U-Um…but you…I…"

A laugh erupted from Noire, which was stifled into a chuckle after she placed a hand over her mouth. "Hah. I'm just joking. I don't have a birthmark. My body's as smooth as can possibly be. Of course. And, before you even ask, yes, I still have my hymen. What kind of trashy goddess would I be without it?"

 _And Vert still has hers, somehow._

 _Possibly._

 _Allegedly._

"I…wasn't going to…"

"Oh, and these breasts that you seem to be having trouble keeping your eyes off of? As perfect as you think." Noire leaned forward, cupping them in her hands for a moment before letting them fall naturally.

 _How curious. Is this truly how you wish to proceed, CPU of Lastation?_

"Why are you—"

" _Shh._ " Noire pressed a finger to Jake's lips before strutting away. With her back still turned, she leaned forward, reaching her hands down to the hem of her skirt. Slowly, she lifted the hem, until, just as she would've raised it above her thighs, she gave a feigned gasp and released her skirt, allowing it to return to knee-length. She raised herself back upright before turning to face Jake, who looked like he was about to cry.

 _I do like to make my fans happy._

Noire blinked as her own words were reflected at her.

 _He doesn't look too happy._

"Ahah…hahah…" The goddess played off her antics with a little laugh. "Look at what you made a pure maiden do. How _could_ you?"

"I…I didn't…"

Noire stepped up to him, placing her hands to his chest and moving her face uncomfortably close to his. "You did this. You, and everyone who worships me."

Jake attempted to back up, but Noire kept up the pressure, pressing him against the wall and knocking aside a few stacks of comics in the process. "Lady Noire—"

" _You did this to me._ "

Noire's expression was dangerously blank, her breaths fast and hot upon Jake's face. For a brief moment, he fancied the idea that she might kiss him, before he realized how stupid he was being. "I-I'm sorry, Lady Noire. I thought…"

"Spit it out."

Jake swallowed nervously, turning his head away – she'd incidentally managed to get a little spit on _his_ face. "I thought you _wanted_ people to think you were attractive."

"'Attractive.' Is that the word?"

"Fine! Cute! Hot! Sexy! But just because you're hot doesn't mean that's the only reason people like you!"

"I find that hard to believe. How else can anyone like a hypocrite who complains about upskirts when she wears a skirt so short that it's illegal for anyone else? How else can anyone like a selfish asshole who'd rather lock herself in her room than spend time with her sister? How else can anyone like a _bitch_ who chews out anyone who even _tries_ to be a _friend?!_ "

 _Language, dear CPU. You are channeling Blanc quite handily right now._

 _GO. AWAY._

Noire shoved Jake into the wall with one hand, taking a few steps back. "I'm the least likable person you'll ever meet, and yet I'm always _such_ a popular goddess. _I wonder why?!_ "

Jake was having difficulty coming up with a rebuttal. Then again, he barely knew anything about the goddesses' actual personalities. He could list all of their measurements from memory, but he couldn't even say what Noire was like at public speeches. One thing was for sure – this wasn't anything like the games had led him to believe. A tingle in the back of his head told him that the next words to come from his mouth would have a profound effect on the future of the world. Unfortunately, all he could do was blab the first thing to come to mind. "I'm sorry. I…I should've never asked to meet you."

The CPU's eyes grew wide, her nose sucking in an involuntary breath as her rage built to a head. She wanted to scream, of course. She wanted this poor, naïve idiot to know just how much she hated him and everyone like him. But she couldn't. She knew she was just offloading her anger onto someone else, blaming what was most likely her own failings on anything but herself.

How strange. No matter the situation, there was always that one corner of her mind that managed to maintain control – to pull her back to her senses when she needed them most. To rob her of feeling…to deprive her of desire.

 _Would you find any greater joy if you were born ugly, CPU of Lastation?_

No. She wouldn't.

 _Is it a sin to be beautiful? To tempt others into lechery with one's mere presence?_

That would be a pitiful excuse for her behavior. She knew it went deeper than that. She could feel it within her gut. But she couldn't put a name to the source of the hatred that had long ago begun to darken her heart. All she could do was collapse, her weakened mind and body too overwhelmed to handle the emotions that had suddenly been unbottled and left free to spill forth.

 _I'm crying. I'm actually crying._

In any other situation, this would've been something to rectify immediately. She wasn't allowed to show weakness. She wasn't allowed to break the illusion that she had spent so long delicately crafting. She was untouchable. Unbreakable. The desire of all men, and the envy of all women – and vice versa. The perfect goddess.

But right now, she was just a little girl, bawling her eyes out on the floor for reasons she couldn't understand.

 _Why me? Why am I the only one who can't handle this? Even Neptune…_

The white hot fire within flared back to life in an instant.

 _Neptune._

That was the name she needed.

Her eternal rival.

The one who made her into a laughingstock.

The one everyone seemed to love.

The one _she_ fancied she might love.

Her fists clenched…and then clenched harder.

 _Why couldn't you have just died?_

 _You would not be alive to this day without her, CPU of Lastation._

Of course. She hardly needed a reminder on that front. She could still vividly remember their final battle on Celestia, as sporadic as her memory seemed to have become in recent days (or nights).

 _It doesn't matter. That was then. This is now._

 _Oh? Do you intend to kill her? How do you plan to accomplish this in your weakened state? Ah, and no doubt the others will be quick to leap to her defense. Triumphing against such odds would be impressive indeed._

 _I'll find a way._

She wasn't so convinced, herself, either. But, somewhere deep within, the embers continued to smolder, and she knew they would prove difficult to ever extinguish completely.

 _Neptune…_

Her hands squeezed a little tighter.


	18. Their Goddess, Part III

Jake had been watching the overwrought goddess with a morbid mix of caution and curiosity. He knew the gentlemanly thing to do would be to comfort her somehow, but he had the feeling that she might try to snap his arm off or something if he laid a finger on her. So, he waited for the storm to pass, observing her expression change from one of pure sorrow to that of pure hatred and then, suddenly, back to neutral.

 _Something's wrong. Even_ I _know that she wasn't like this._

Noire forced herself to her feet, ignoring the weariness that was threatening to pull her back down. Her cheeks were stained with tears, but, other than that, there was no sign that anything had happened at all. "I'm sorry. I guess…I just needed someone to scream at." She managed a wry smile. "Th…thanks."

"I-It's alright. Really." Jake nodded to accentuate his words.

"Eheh. I'm just that much of a loner, right? That's why you like me, right? Because you know it would be so _easy_ to get close to this cold and lonely heart. All she needs is a shoulder to cry on, and she's ready and willing to tell you she loves you. And then…" Noire raised her fingers to her lips, turning her head to shoot a coy look from the corner of her eye. She giggled, even as the fake grin that had formed on her face fell.

All Jake could do was turn his gaze away, shame once again burning at his cheeks. Something about her words rung starkly true, and yet…"I don't understand. Isn't that what friends do for each other? Be there when they're needed? Why does it have to jump immediately to love?" He raised his head to meet Noire's eyes. "And why would that be so bad, any—"

" _Shh._ " Noire raised a finger to Jake's mouth to silence him, but this time, it was a gesture born out of necessity.

A set of footsteps…no, _two_ sets of footsteps were approaching. They grew louder, and then eventually faded away, evidently heading somewhere further down the hall.

 _Oh. So that's where "Jeb" got off to._

Noire lowered her finger, leaning in and whispering, "I need to get out of here."

Jake couldn't help but glare as he replied just as quietly, "You really have a chip on your shoulder, don't you?"

Noire placed her hands on her hips. " _Hmph._ Maybe I do. What's it to you, Mister _Nice Guy?_ "

"Hey! I didn't guilt trip my girlfriend into going out with me, if that's the idea you're getting!"

" _Pffft._ " Noire moved a hand to cover her mouth as she struggled to stifle her laughter. " _You_ have a girlfriend? Now _there's_ a fine joke. Will she still be with you when the doujins come tumbling out of the closet, I wonder?"

Jake narrowed his eyes. "Now you're just being mean."

"And?"

"That's not what goddesses are supposed to be like."

"And?"

"You can't just answer everything like that!"

Noire crossed her arms over her chest. "Why not?"

Now it was Jake's turn to let out an annoyed sigh. He was having trouble keeping his voice down. "This is getting nowhere."

"Yep."

The man threw his arms to either side. "What do you want from me?!"

"I want you to give back the console I signed."

He froze as he processed what she just said. "Eh?"

"The console. I'd like to have it, if you don't mind."

Jake's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Ehh?! But…why?"

"Th-That's none of your business, human."

He continued to stare at her for a moment before he finally nodded, closing his gaping mouth. "Fine. But I already said I'd sell it. You'll have to deal with… _them._ "

"Then I'll _deal_ with them. I owe them a little payback, anyway."

Jake hesitated once more, noting the strange look in Noire's eyes, before heading toward a corner of the room that was just as stuffed full of merchandise as anywhere else inside. Several moments of rummaging through comics later, he raised his hand, precious object in tow. "Here you go."

A corner of Noire's mouth turned upward as she accepted the console. "Thank you." She gave it only a brief look to confirm that her signature was indeed present before forcing the device to dematerialize, storing it in her internal disk. Apparently this was common tech in this world, too, as Jake didn't react by freaking out.

 _Say…since the console has a disk in it…what happens if I store a disk in a disk? Or a disk in a disk in a disk? Could I just exploit that for infinite storage?_

She wasn't sure why such a silly thought suddenly crossed her mind. She knew that the storage in the console wasn't even relatable to the magitech powering the device that could store physical objects in hammerspace. Maybe she was more tired than she thought.

But now wasn't the time for rest. It was never the time for rest – not until her far-too-human body gave up trying and made her pass out on the keyboard. She wondered how long it would be until she fell asleep in a more embarrassing manner…but it was entirely possible that such a thing had already happened, and she simply couldn't remember it.

Shaking her head to clear it – which she was realizing was something she did rather often – she stepped over to the door, pressing an ear against it. There was indeed a conversation taking place outside, but the muffled words were difficult to make out. She cracked open the door as quietly as she could, peeking one eye out to peer down the hallway.

 _I've seen these guys before, haven't I?_

A pair of men were standing some distance away. One of the men was fairly squat, possessing a bulky build that lay hidden beneath a tacky outfit complete with a waistcoat and loosened tie. The other was massive, his three-piece suit barely able to contain his rippling muscles, his square jaw accented by the sunglasses that hid his eyes.

 _So, one's a bouncer, I get that. But what's with the shorter guy? He looks like he walked straight out of a fighting game._

Noire's gaze was drawn to a swish of black ink present on the shorter man's forearm, which must've continued upward beneath his sleeve.

 _A tattoo?_

"…tellin' ya, Jeb, I can't find anything on her at all." the bouncer was saying, his voice hushed. "She's gots ta be from somewhere else. Like, a secret lab or somethin'."

"Hm." The other man placed a hand under his chin in an inquisitive pose. "I can't say I've ever seen her before, myself. Although I _do_ gotta say that her resemblance to a certain someone is almost uncanny. Good cosplayer, at least."

"You met the girl before she made all that fuss, yeah?"

"For all of one minute. She didn't seem much like a CPU to me, _but_ I _did_ see the potential for candidacy in her."

"I dunno if she's still just a _candidate._ I mean, she was all trussed up like some kinda…you know. Don't see a lot of people just walkin' around in that type of getup 'round here. Especially not during a Festival. Coppers get antsy 'round this time, y'know."

Jeb crossed his arms, his head tilted in thought. "Well, if what you're sayin' is right, then she's not one of ours. So…are we led to believe that a lost CPU has coincidentally stumbled into our little inn? What are the odds?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds like a heck of a coinkidink, but what else could it be? I mean, she got knocked out by the…uh…stun thingy. That means she's a CPU for sure." The bouncer – Morty – retrieved the "stun thingy" from his belt, rubbing the prongs against the back of his hand. "See? Look – don't work on normal people."

"Pheh. You're just too ugly for it."

"Hey, up yours, pretty boy."

A sudden pain shot through Noire, her hands clutching at her stomach as that horrible feeling overwhelmed her. She fell to a knee, just barely managing to prevent herself from collapsing into a heap. Then, just as suddenly, she was yanked back by the elbows.

Jake's grip on Noire had been impressively swift, although the goddess likely would've complained about his assistance if she hadn't been preoccupied with what could be described as suffering a freezer burn from the inside-out.

"Uh…did you hear somethin', Jeb?"

"Yeah. It sounded much like a 'thump,' did it not?"

"Let's investigate. 'Cuz that's what we're supposed ta do, right?"

"Right you are, Morty."

Footsteps thundered through the hall, the giant frame of the bouncer soon appearing in the doorway. "Hello? Anyone home? Yoo-hoo."

 _Whump._

 _Crash._

Morty never saw it comin'. A single tiny, silky smooth hand proved to be a fearsome weapon when clenched into a fist. He collapsed backward into a limp pile, totally out cold.

"Morty?!"

Jebediah rushed down the hall, only to halt when he saw a familiar face step out over his fallen coworker.

"Oh. Hi. Sorry about your kidnapping friend."

"What did you do to him?!"

Noire took a moment to shake her fist, wincing slightly. That punch had probably almost hurt as much as when she'd clocked Blanc right in the jaw just a while ago. Frankly, she was astonished by her own strength, and she'd been far too afraid of what Blanc might do after their scrap to stick around and apologize.

 _So you ran._

She was willing to admit that she'd been acting stupid, but she had little desire to be scolded like a child – or have her head pounded in by someone she knew was stronger in a fight. If she was lucky, Blanc would have reined in her sense of vengeance if – or when – they ever crossed paths again. And maybe, just maybe, both of them would manage to keep their heads on straight when speaking to each other for once.

 _How very strange. Since when has reason begun to speak louder than pride for the regal CPU of Lastation, I wonder?_

Jeb's brow clenched, a vein bulging out on his forehead. "I _knew_ you would be trouble, little girl! You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eheh. That silly accent drops when you're mad, I see."

Jebediah rushed at her with a roar, reaching his hands forward to choke that smug grin off her stupid, too-perfect Lastation face. His yell turned into a gasp when, before he could take more than two steps, he felt something yank his foot back, causing him to slam head-first into the floor.

"Eh?"

Another figure had appeared behind where the salesman had just been standing. She pressed a button on the device in her hand, causing the cable attached to it to unwind from Jeb's ankle, before returning it to one of the pouches on her belt.

"Hi," the woman greeted with a little wave. "I'm Falcom."

"Oh. You've grown, I see."

The woman's brow rose in genuine surprise. "So you _do_ remember me." She raised her hand again, holding up a finger as she stepped over to the form of Jeb on the floor, who had started to slowly lift his head. Falcom grabbed him by the back of the hair, slamming his head into the floor once before pulling out another device and planting a dart in the back of his neck. "Sleep tight."

" _Pffft._ I can't say I ever remember you spouting _one-liners._ "

Falcom moved a hand behind her neck in a nervous gesture as she chuckled. "I guess it's a habit I picked up over the years. Makes the job a little less nerve-wracking, at least."

"So…what brings you here?"

The agent's expression suddenly grew deadly serious as her hands dropped back to her sides. "I'm here to rescue you."

"Eh? 'Rescue' me?"

Falcom stepped over Jebediah's fallen body, placing herself in front of the CPU. "Forgive me, Lady Noire, but what level of stupid are you on right now?"

Noire was so taken aback that she forgot to be offended. "Eh?!"

"You waltzed _straight_ into enemy territory and got yourself captured by ASIC. Here I am, breaking every order imaginable to make sure that you're safe, and you don't even seem to understand just how much of a… _dung pile_ you're _in_ right now!"

The goddess blinked. "'Order?' From who?"

By now, Jake had gathered the courage to step outside, assessing the situation with widened eyes. "U-Um…" He decided that it wasn't worth arguing about the use of force – or thinking about the trouble it was bound to cause him. He should've known that he would be getting swept into something crazy on this trip as soon as he stepped foot outside of his home back in Lastation. "She must be some kind of Guild agent. Right?"

Falcom nodded, glad that at least someone in the room had some sense. "Yep. You could say that. You could also say that they're going to have my hide when they find out what I'm doing here. So, come on. I'm going to at least get you out of here before they haul me off by the ear."

Noire breathed out a quiet sigh. After all the emotions that had spilled forth from her just minutes ago, she was feeling particularly drained. And maybe just a little regretful about some of the things she'd said and done.

 _Having second thoughts, CPU of Lastation?_

 _My_ thoughts _would be a lot clearer if you would just leave me alone._

 _Hah. You gave your friend quite the show, did you not?_

 _I suppose I did. Mistakes were made._

 _Perhaps your mistake being that you did not give him what he truly desired—_

 _Go away. Please._

"Are you ready to go?" Falcom asked, hoping that the answer would be an unequivocal "yes."

A moment passed before Noire gave a tentative nod. She took a step forward…and then promptly collapsed, her legs suddenly having gone rubbery on her.

"Lady Noire?!" the other two conscious occupants of the hall practically exclaimed in unison. They worked together to bring the CPU back to her feet, both of them wearing expressions of concern.

"I'm…sorry…" the goddess managed to mumble. "Everything's…spinning…"

Falcom only looked even more worried as she shifted the CPU over to her, wrapping Noire's arm around her shoulder to bear her weight. "It's the share, isn't it?"

Somewhere, deep within Noire's mind, a chord of fear was struck at those words. She hadn't dared to put more than fleeting thought to the idea, but she had been hoping against hope that, somehow, someway, she had been made free of the shares' yoke in this world. After all, not a single one of the CPUs who had made the journey across dimensions had needed to gather shares so far. Why would they affect her now, of all times?

 _Is it because of what I said to Jake earlier?_

She hoped the agent wouldn't feel the trembling that threatened to overtake her.

"Heh. Glad you don't weigh too much, Lady Noire," said Falcom, forcing a slight grin onto her face.

"Th-Thanks. I guess."

"Come on. Let's go."

 _Phase 2 of Plan C, initiate._


	19. Our Goddess!

"We're clear for now. But I don't imagine it'll stay that way for long. Hold on tight, alright?"

It was hard for Noire to say why she had decided to place her trust in this woman. Perhaps it wasn't so much trust as it was the dreaminess of it all. It was becoming more and more clear to her that agency – the freedom of choice many humans saw as a basic tenet of life – had never been a major factor in any of her decisions, least of all in this new world that she was forced to accept as real. Despite all of her efforts, it seemed that she had been merely floating along in a predestined stream for so very long. What, then, was the harm in allowing herself to be guided by fate once more?

"So what were you two doing together in that room? If I may ask, that is."

A blush crossed Noire's cheeks at the implications of those words. "Picking up a game console," she answered, finding it difficult to put any volume in her voice.

"Eh? Those are pretty rare nowadays, sad to say. Most people don't put a lot of stock in gaming anymore. Total waste of time, they'll tell you."

"At least they're worth a lot for the collector's value now," Jake added.

"As long as you don't mind getting tangled up with ASIC, you mean," Falcom warned, shooting the man a stern look.

They paused when they reached the stairwell at the end of the hall, where potential paths leading either up or down presented themselves.

"Here," Falcom said, pulling Noire further up onto her back. "I'll help you on the way up."

"Up?"

"Yeah. To the roof."

"Oh. Blanc says...we can't fly. I can't…"

Falcom held back a groan when the goddess gripped a little tighter onto her.

 _Good grief. She's really out of it right now. And freezing, too._

It sounded like trouble was starting to brew on the ground floor, the sounds of shouts, gasps, and thudding footsteps meeting her ears. She didn't have time to be a bouncer, though. All she needed right now was to escape with her target. She would figure out the rest later.

 _I'm sure the CPUs will be glad to have a helping hand._

Falcom nearly stumbled heading up the stairs, her own throat growing a little choked up. A sense of awe was only just now beginning to wash over her. Was any of this real? Had the goddesses truly returned? She was in direct contact with one at that very moment – a divine being, in the flesh. In her care.

"I won't let you die again," she breathed, too low for anyone to hear but the semi-conscious girl currently slumped against her.

 _Don't make a promise that you can't keep._

* * *

"That _IDIOT!_ As soon as I stop babysitting her, she goes and pulls something like _this!_ "

"Blanc, please—"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Vert! You don't get it! None of you do! _We're_ the only thing standing between this world and its end. _We_ are _goddesses._ Not some stupid, spoiled _kids._ I thought Noire at least had some basic sense of _responsibility,_ but…" Blanc let out a huffy sigh. "If you're not going to help me track her sorry ass down, then I'll do it alone. _Someone_ has to get things done. May as well be me, huh?"

Vert could only watch as Blanc stomped away, leaving their little hideout behind. "I…am not sure that I have ever seen her quite so upset before. Certainly, she has been _louder_ before, but…"

"Ehhhh…" Neptune raised an inquisitive finger to her chin. "I think we might need to go make sure Blanc doesn't put a few bruises on our party's tsundere…Her skin's pretty sensitive and stuff, y'know?"

"Hm. I suppose you may be right, Neptune. I would not enjoy seeing Noire's smooth, ticklish skin scarred in such a manner, either." Vert's lips formed into a smile. "And, besides – what sort of adventurer turns down a side quest to rescue a party member, hm?"

It didn't take long to catch up to Blanc. Despite her words, she didn't seem to be in that much of a hurry.

"Oiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Blaaaaaaaaanc!" Neptune called as she and Vert raced after the CPU of Lowee, stopping just behind her.

"Oh. I see you two decided to join me," Blanc said as she turned around. "How nice."

Vert shot her a glare. "We have decided to render our assistance to you, Blanc. Please do not deride us like the spoiled child you have declared myself to be."

That seemed to get to her. Blanc's gaze turned away for a moment, her expression softening a little. "Alright. But you're not my mother. Or my sister. Don't think I'm gonna act like you are."

The CPU of Leanbox twisted her frown into a delighted smile. "I would hardly expect such, Blanc-chan."

Blanc's nostrils flared, her temper threatening to boil over once again for a few dangerous seconds. She blew out a quick sigh through her nose in a manner reminiscent of a bull. "I have a pretty good idea of where Noire wandered off to. And, no, I can't tell you how I know, Neptune."

"Bwuh? But I wasn't even gonna ask this time, Ms. Super-Secret!"

"Good. I'm glad your thick skull can actually learn something."

"Gee…just because I totally survived the fall from Celestia doesn't mean you have to keep bringing it up…"

* * *

"Can you feel it?"

"Uh…no. I can't feel whatever it is that you're _possibly_ talking about, Oracle."

The Oracle took in a long, noisy breath, raising her arms as if savoring the air or praising a particular celestial entity that was not currently visible in the sky. "There is a tension about us. The Festival draws to a close. And with it, the climax of this tale draws near to give way to the next. And so on, and so on…"

Relera merely continued to shoot a bored look out of the corner of her eye, propping her head sideways with a hand. She wished that there was a glass of wine nearby to grab with her other hand, but the table in front of her was devoid of such treats, as alcoholic beverages were not permitted on the fairgrounds. "All I smell is burnt plastic and too much perfume. You were back down in the lab again, weren't you?"

" _Kch._ " The Oracle's eyes narrowed as she spun to face the Duchess. "That is the smell of _science,_ dear Duchess. Science, and _progress._ Obviously you would be unfamiliar with such heady concepts."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Relera, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm just glad I don't have to be a volunteer."

There was the low sound of a laugh from the Oracle, soon building up to one that was quite maniacal in nature. "Ah, but you were already volunteered _long_ ago, Duchess of Leanbox."

"Pipe down, would you? You're mildly terrorizing the tourists."

* * *

"Sooooooooo…do we have a plan?"

"Yes, I have a plan, Neptune," said Blanc. "It goes like this: we walk in, beat up anyone who looks at us funny, and walk out with Noire, kicking and screaming if necessary. Oh, and without activating the HDD form. That part's, _ahem,_ pretty important."

Neptune pouted to show her displeasure. "Oh, boo. I wanna be super cool and sexy _sometimes,_ y'know."

"Yeah, well, I've already explained that we can't afford to blow our cover. We're supposed to be dead or banished or something along those lines, remember?"

"But we're totally alive and stuff! I bet the Nep-Nep F.C. would have the beeeeeeest day _ever!_ "

"I am not so sure that they would still be around after so long, Neptune," Vert said, her tone uncharacteristically despondent.

"Of _course_ they're still around! No one can forget about good olllllll' Nep-Nep!"

"If only because the sound of your voice can't be erased from one's ears," added Blanc. "Anyway, are you two ready? We only have one shot at this. We have to get Noire back, even if she's a royal pain in the ass. Gamindustri needs all of us here."

Vert nodded. "Ready."

"Ready!" Neptune shouted, pointing a finger toward the sky. "Commence Operation: Get Back Our Tsun-Tsun Goddess (And Totally Earn Lily Rank While We're At It)!"

"Hmmmm." Vert crested her fingers together thoughtfully. "It could use a little more zest, perhaps, but it echoes my sentiments exactly. Ah, but we have had so little time to work on our lily ranks!"

Blanc stepped forward out onto the asphalt of the street. "Let's go."

If Neptune had her way, a slow-mo walking montage would be added here, but such a thing is impossible in a text-based medium, much to her disappointment.

"Bah! You've spent all this time hiding behind the fourth wall, and _now_ you're peeking out, Mr. Narrator?" Neptune whined. "All of those other super boring chapters could've totally used you!"

"Oh, my. A nightclub, is it?" said Vert wringing her hands anxiously. "I wonder what sorts we will meet in here? Several bounty hunters, perhaps?"

"Ehhhh, some mercenaries…" added Neptune.

"Swords-for-hire."

"Sell swords."

"Adventurers."

"N'er-do-wells."

"Vagabonds."

"And…whoa! Look at the _bazongas!_ "

Vert seemed confused for a moment before she realized the source of Neptune's excitement. A smile slowly spread across the Leanbox CPU's face. "My, my. Not just a nightclub."

Blanc let out a groan as she pushed the doors open without breaking stride. Immediately, her senses were assaulted by sights and sounds that she wanted nothing to do with. A live band was performing, their outfits resembling that of typical pop idols, albeit slightly more scanty than usual. A series of waitresses in barely decent maid uniforms were hurrying about, serving food and drinks to the eclectic selection of customers within.

"How unusual, not to mention brazen. This is all visible from the street, is it not?" commented Vert. "Should there not be something present to shield the…ahem… _innocent eyes of youth_ from peeking inside?"

The CPU of Lowee had already managed to slip her way through the room, her small size making such a task easy. She stopped in front of a rather large suit-clad man with crossed arms, who was blocking a door labelled _Employees Only._ "Hey. Uh…you. What's it going to take to get back there?"

"Nothin' you're willin' ta pay. 'Sides, ain't you too young ta be here? Beat it, girly!"

Obviously, Blanc was not pleased. She managed to keep her cool, anyway. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'll ask one more time. How can I get back there without having to twist a meathead into a pretzel?"

The man sneered at her, as if such a tactic would work on Blanc. "You threatenin' me, girly? I'll pound your tiny ass into the ground and kick you out _in that order_ if you think you can tango with me!"

The brief scrap that ensued ended pretty much as expected – with Blanc dusting off her hands, her expression as blank as always. Oh, and one human pretzel. A very salty human pretzel.

This didn't go unnoticed, of course. Several people yelled or screamed when they noticed that a giant man had had his ass thoroughly kicked by a 4' 9" girl who was petite even for her height. Luckily, Blanc had already made her way into the backrooms before anyone was too much the wiser.

Unluckily, her companions weren't so quick on the uptake.

" _Get those troublemakers!_ " one of the bouncers screeched.

"Gee. They have a bouncer _army_ in here!" exclaimed Neptune. "Blaaaaanc! Where'd you go? Blaaaaaaaaanc!"

"It appears that we will need to be facing this army with just the two of us," said Vert, who was already materializing her spear into existence. "How unfortunate."

" _Bah!_ She totally abandoned us!" Neptune let out an annoyed sigh, drawing her trusty wooden katana from nothing. "Well, at least we have some cool battle music! _More Soul!_ "

* * *

"Almost got it…There!" The satisfying sound of a lock clicking was followed by the door swinging open, revealing a rooftop lit by the ambient green lighting spilling from the taller buildings around it.

"Say…isn't it illegal for this to be locked?" asked Jake.

"Yep," Falcom answered with a slight groan as she lifted Noire's limp form onto her shoulders. "Totally breaks fire safety codes. They don't want their maids wandering up here, y'know. What if one falls off and makes a scene? And they can't put up fencing without being suspicious, either."

"Oh."

"Oh shit!" came a voice from below. "We got wounded here!"

"And there's the universal code for 'it's time to hurry,'" said Falcom, stepping out onto the roof with a goddess in tow. The agent expected a breeze to begin whipping at her, but it seemed that the air was rendered static in the presence of the Festival.

"So how are we getting down from here?"

"Welllll…" Falcom gave a little chuckle. "I was hoping that I would be able to convince her to fly me out of here, but that's a bust, it seems."

"So what's Plan B?"

"Plan B? We're already on Plan D."

"Oh."

The agent took in a deep breath. "Ahhh…Plan D's coming to me right now. It's saying that we can rappel our way off the roof to safety, crossing our fingers and praying to whoever's listening that no one sees us. And that we don't manage to drop Noire."

"Are you seriously improvving all of this?!"

"Heh. I was improvving from the moment I stepped foot in Leanbox."

Jake wasn't quite sure what to make of the agent's little grin. "Um…you _are_ going to rescue me, too, right?"

"Sure." Falcom made her way over to one of the roof's edges, setting Noire down nearby. The agent chanced a peek down to the street. She'd gotten used to heights by now, but that didn't change the fact that a fall could be deadly. Especially twelve stories down like the one here. Knowing that time was of the essence, she searched for a convenient point to attach a line.

"Here we go…"

Just as she started readying the rappelling rig, she realized that a familiar sound was hitting her ears and growing louder – sirens. Lots of them.

 _Crap._

A whole fleet of police vehicles – including armored vans – were rushing in to surround the building, officers jumping out with weapons at the ready, some of them wearing paramilitary equipment as if they were prepared for a real battle. What was going on down there? Had someone tipped them off about this place? Or were they here for more than just a crackdown?

"Uhhhhh…" Jake must've noticed the commotion as well. "How are we getting past that?"

"I don't know."

"Eh? But you're a Guild agent! You're supposed to be like…a super sneaky assassin, and stuff!"

"I'm an _agent,_ not a _ninja._ " Falcom breathed out a loud sigh. "Looks like we're stuck, then, doesn't it?"

"You can't…call in backup?"

Falcom shook her head. "No. I already told you, I'm going to be in the Guild's black book after this. I was never supposed to make direct contact with the CPUs."

"Why did you do it if you knew you would end up on your own? Where were you planning to go after this?"

It was tough to answer that, considering that Falcom wasn't quite sure herself. The whole idea had been idiotic. Reactionary. But, at the same time, it had been brooding within her since she had first become convinced that the goddesses were real. "I figured I wouldn't need anyone else's help if the CPUs were on my side. I…was kind of hoping that I could go adventuring with them again, I guess. Get the whole band back together. Save the world or whatever. Stupid, I know."

Jake seemed to perk up. "Wait…'again?'"

Falcom nodded. "Yep. Surprised? I'm a lot older than I look. Full body replacements on the cheap are just around the corner, y'know. The magic of technology…because we got rid of the _real_ magic."

"'Real magic,' eh?"

The agent was spared embarrassment by her ironic choice of words when she heard footsteps growing closer from behind.

"They're gonna jump off the roof!" came the voice of Generic Goon #51532.

Indeed, a whole squad of generic, suit-clad men soon appeared on the roof. Of course, no matter how bulging their muscles might've been, none of them were armed, making them relatively simple opponents.

Jake didn't seem to see the situation in the same light, however. "Oh, crap! What do we do?!"

"Shut up and keep your girlfriend company. I've got this."

" _G-Girlfriend?!_ " Jake didn't add that his actual girlfriend was most likely currently waiting in her hotel room, wondering where he could possibly be. She'd be wanting him to join her and their friends in the central plaza for the end of the Festival, for sure.

He also didn't add that Noire was probably more likely to dropkick him off a building than call him even so much as an acquaintance.

Falcom raised her hands into the air, a red glow forming as an impressively large greatsword was fabricated from nothingness. She sliced the sword down, lowering into a well-practiced stance. She rarely did get to use the thing in this line of work, to the point where her fellow agents questioned the value in carrying it. Well, who was laughing now?

Certainly, Falcom wasn't laughing when the attackers reached into their suits to pull out a variety of small automatic firearms.

 _Oh. Come. On!_

"Glass her, fellas."

What should've been a bloody and unfortunate scene was averted by a technique that all experienced Guild agents were now encouraged to acquire for situations much like this one. Falcom removed one hand from her sword, fingers splayed outward toward the gunmen. They let loose with their guns, the shots deafening, not stopping until they had run out of ammo. They were quite surprised to see that not a single one of the hundreds of bullets they had just fired had hit their target. They were also surprised to find that their target was now behind them, bashing one of them in the head with the broad side of her blade.

 _I guess I am a little like a ninja, huh? Hidden ninpo!_

Of course, Falcom had not actually managed to teleport her way behind them like it was nothing personal. They had simply been so blinded by their own gunfire that they hadn't noticed the energized sphere blocking every shot as she advanced toward them at a sprint. Small-scale electromagnetic shielding was a powerful tool available only to the most well-connected of individuals. It cost a fortune to install, so she was told. But she, like any agent, was expected to pay back the cost a thousandfold with her service.

Too bad for them that she was going AWOL with their brand new tech.

Also, too bad for the thugs who were now lying on the ground in various degrees of unconsciousness. They wouldn't be out for long, probably, but it was long enough. And, just to make sure, she gave each of them a light injection of tranquilizer. She was always nervous about these kinds of tactics – it was far too easy to accidentally kill someone. She'd rather not cross that threshold if she could help it, even in the occasions in which deadly force was authorized.

The agent turned her attention back to those in her charge, growing alarmed when she saw that Jake was on the ground, writhing in pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked, having rushed over to them.

"They… _nng_ …shot me!" groaned Jake. "That's what's wrong!"

Falcom took a few moments to inspect him as best she could in the poor lighting. One red spot was present on his leg, likely having been deflected at an odd angle by Falcom's shield. He was wounded, but he'd live. Probably.

"I see you've learned some new tricks. Interesting."

The red-headed agent jumped to her feet, spinning around with her sword at the ready. The tip of the blade stopped well over the head of this latest intruder.

"Calm yourself. We don't have time to fight each other."

Falcom let out a shaky breath, lowering her blade and depositing it back into hammerspace. "Blanc. Long time no see."

"Just how long have you been waiting to say that?" Immediately, Blanc chided herself, adding, "Don't answer that question. Not enough time." She kneeled down next to Noire, lifting the goddess up by the front of her dress. "Wake up, you brat. I didn't come all this way for you to be dead."

A low groan sounded from Noire, whose eyes fluttered open ever so slightly. Her head lolled to the side, a few incomprehensible syllables being muttered.

Blanc's sigh was tinged with frustration. " _Idiot._ Did you really think you could run away from the shares?"

"C'mon, Blanc!" an irritating voice called from behind. "Give her mouth-to-mouth! I _believe_ in you!"

The Loweean goddess turned her head to see Neptune and Vert making their way over to join the burgeoning party. "I'm not giving her freakin' _mouth-to-mouth!_ "

"Oh, my. She appears _deathly_ ill," commented Vert. "Deary me…such a sorry state to see a goddess in."

"Uh…girls? I'm dying over here, too," came the voice of Jake.

Falcom threw him a glare. " _Can it._ You'll be fine, just as soon as we get you to a hospital. But Noire's probably going to need a lot more than that."

"She needs share energy," said Blanc, rising to her feet. "And we have three sources of that standing right here."

Vert arched a brow. "Are you suggesting…"

Blanc nodded.

"Let's raise our hands and give her our energy!" Neptune shouted, doing just that.

A moment passed, during which the chaos in the lower floors of the building was clearly audible.

Falcom gave a nervous little chuckle, rubbing the back of her head. "Er…"

"I'm…not exactly sure how this works," Blanc admitted.

A shocked look formed on Vert's face as she raised a hand to her mouth in melodramatic fashion. "This process doesn't involve… _transferring mana,_ does it? Oh, my!"

"Wh-What?! O-Of course not! That would be ridiculous! Only the most perverted of writers would make a requirement like that!"

Neptune giggled to herself, throwing a sly look toward Blanc.

The CPU of Lowee squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds to avoid having to strangle a certain purple-haired someone. "Okay. I've got it. We just have to _want_ to transfer our shares. Like making a wish."

" _Oooh._ Are we magical girls now?" asked Neptune. "Where do I apply for my frilly uniform?"

An uncomfortable amount of time passed as the goddesses stood there, trying to wrap their heads around just how the shares functioned. Eventually, they could begin to feel… _something_ flowing away from them, manifesting in the form of heat leaving their bodies.

And then, the flow stopped, much like a diner finishing a meal.

Noire's eyes blinked open…then grew wide when she saw the figure hunched over her, one hand ready to give her face a good slap. "H-Hold on just a second! I'm awake!"

"Good."

 _Smack._


	20. Coward

Noire raised a hand to her cheek, gingerly touching where she'd just nearly had her lights knocked right back out. Her mouth was agape, her head still twisted aside from the force of the impact that had struck her.

 _I deserved that._

She finally managed to focus her eyes on something in the darkness, making out the shape of Blanc's girlish face leaning in close to her own. Noire half expected the goddess of Lowee to start screaming her head off, pouring out the great frustration she no doubt felt toward Noire with enough expletives to make a sailor blush. But the anger never came.

"S-Sorry, Blanc," Noire mumbled, the numbness in her cheek making it a little difficult to speak.

"It's fine."

"I-I didn't mean to hit you…t-to cause you so much trouble," Noire added, swallowing with some difficulty – her mouth was awfully dry. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm…"

Blanc said nothing as Noire became too choked up to continue speaking, the Loweean CPU merely rising to her feet and taking a step back.

A feminine sigh came from one of the figures standing over Noire. "It is a strange sight indeed to see Noire acting so… _demure._ "

"I agree. Her _dere_ side is showing a little too strong. The turtle must have decided to stick its head out of the shell for once. I just hope she's learned her lesson."

Vert and Blanc. Of course. They always did like to laugh behind Noire's back about…well, everything. Not that she hadn't given them plenty of ammunition. Plus, it wasn't as if Neptune poked any less fun.

"Eh…this Noire's no fun," said Neptune, right on cue. "Isn't she supposed to jump up and say, 'B-Baka! I totally don't have maxed lily ranks with you or anything!'"

Noire forced herself to sit upright, cycling through about a dozen possible replies. Yet, she paused just as she opened her mouth. Was it even worth getting into this argument again? Her instincts screamed at her to defend her pride, but she knew that it would just end in a burning zinger that left her with no comeuppance. It was three against one, after all – what chance did she have?

"Perhaps you should not have hit her so hard, Blanc?" remarked Vert, a hint of real concern in her voice. "You may have knocked her hormones out of balance!"

 _Such a change in such a short span. Since when has the busybody of Lastation ever had time for self-awareness?_

A more disturbing thought then arose: how much of it was change, and how much of it was simply allowing her outer shell to be removed, even if only temporarily? Had she spent so long as the CPU of Lastation that she had forgotten her own self? _Was_ she just a fragile, demure " _dere_ " inside? She thought back to all of the jokes others had made at her expense. Could everyone else see it, too? Even after all she had done to shape the image of Lady Noire?

 _The cracks in your shell were already formed long ago, CPU of Lastation. What do you believe would happen if you abandoned your crumbling shelter? What if you became the pretty wallflower you always were inside? They would accept you with little question – all of them. Who could resist adorable little Noire, crafted to utmost perfection, after all?_

The idea gripped her with terror. Was her shell afraid of being left behind? Or was the person within too afraid to leave it? Had there always been such a push and pull? What was this silent voice constantly nagging at her, telling her that she needed to push herself harder, that to express herself was childish, that to reflect on her thoughts was fruitless?

Noire continued to sulk wordlessly in silence, the gunshots from below having ceased. Her gaze eventually moved up to find that Blanc was staring at her intently. The CPU's expression was as unreadable as always, but Noire could sense the storm of thoughts brewing behind those eyes. What did Blanc really think of her? Did the Loweean goddess pity her Lastation rival?

The thought of it made Noire cringe. She wondered what her past self from the days of the Console War would think to see her now. Back then, she had been focused so intently on becoming the sole ruler of Gamindustri. Now, here she was in the midst of a land where only one goddess ruled. It would be entirely within her grasp to take over this world's government. This place seemed similar enough to home that, surely, she could adjust. She'd have all the power that she'd pined for so long ago.

Except that wasn't quite right. Power had never been her goal. In fact, she wasn't sure if she'd ever thought about what she would do if she actually defeated…no, _killed_ the other CPUs. Her gut wrenched as the mental image of Lady Black Heart standing triumphant forced its way into her mind, three other goddesses lying dead at her feet. Was this a vision of another world – or of _this_ one, perhaps?

 _Wouldn't that be what you wanted?_

Noire blinked, realizing that tears were beginning to fill her sight. Blanc was still staring at her, as quiet as ever.

 _Isn't that all you ever wished for?_

Vert watched all of this play out with a curious smile. She gave a chuckle when she saw the two CPUs exchange more than just a glance. "My, my."

 _Hah. Is the "real" you too much of a coward to create your perfect world? A Gamindustri free of conflict, with its one true Lady at its helm? Where you would finally be free to give in to the life of decadence you crave? Or would your pride remain strong, even then?_

Blanc threw her Leanbox counterpart a stern look. " _Hey._ Don't get the wrong idea."

 _Noire, or Black Heart – which do you prefer, hm?_

" _Ahg!_ " A pained yell came from Jake. "That hurts! A lot!"

 _And which side will little Uni take after, I wonder?_

"Hold _still,_ " insisted Falcom, who had decided that having Jake bleed all over whoever had to lift him wouldn't be too great. "You're lucky that I carry a first aid kit around in my storage."

 _The Noire who secretly indulges in her selfish, lonesome desires, forever pining for the kinship of a sort that she will never allow herself to find? Beautiful, weak, worthless Noire, a vapid model for a lost generation?_

"Are you almost done?" asked Blanc. "We're bound to have company soon."

 _Or the ruthless Black Heart, always in pursuit of a lofty goal she will surely never reach? Lady Black Heart, protector of Lastation and not a single soul more?_

Falcom nodded just as Jake gave another cry of pain. "It'll do for now."

 _Make your choice. Time is not on your side, CPU of Lastation._

Blanc didn't looked too pleased. "Hmph. I guess we'll have to make room for the baggage—"

Their conversation was interrupted when the occupants of the roof were forced to shield their eyes from the sudden, intense glare of a spotlight.

"This is the LEPD! By the order of Her Grace, the Duchess of Leanbox, you are under arrest! If you resist, we _will_ use lethal force!"

An annoyed groan came from Blanc. "Damn. Looks like they finally found us."

In the span of mere moments, a force of heavily armed and armored policemen entered the scene, some rushing up from the stairs below, and others rappelling down from the vehicle hovering far above the roof. They worked quickly to surround the party, although they kept what they must've believed to be a safe distance away.

Neptune gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, come on, guys. Do ya really think good ol' Neptune would pal around with a bunch of crooks? Our record is squeaky clean! Probably."

Blanc shot the girl a glare. "Quit yer yackin' and transform already." The CPU of Lowee was in the process of helping Noire to her feet, noting that the Lastation goddess was still looking a little disoriented.

Vert's brow raised at Blanc's words. "But did you not tell us before that we shouldn't—"

"I _know_ what I said. We're left with no choice now."

A sigh came from Vert. "Must we really resort to violence? How very droll. And in my own nation, no less!"

In contrast to Vert's reluctance, Neptune had already struck a pose, one hand pointed into the air, the other placed upon her hip. "Alright! Super CPU Squad, transform!"

Blanc had to resist the urge to raise a palm to her face. "Neptune. Please never say that again."

Noire forced down a gulp, knowing that she hardly had the energy in her to fight. More debilitating than that, though, was the terror gripping her heart – not of death, but of what she might become if she once again tasted the heat of battle as the Lady Black Heart. There was no time for such fears, though, of course. The others needed her at full strength, and they needed it right now. She could only pray to whatever being presided above the goddesses themselves that she would not find her hands coated in divine blood by the time she had fully exhausted herself.

One blinding series of flashes later, the quartet of CPUs stood at the ready, their weapons of choice in hand. An onlooker might muse that they indeed looked much like a group of magical girls ready to unleash a whooping on the latest villain of the week – but of course, such things were the purview of childish fantasy.

Both Falcom and Jake stared open-mouthed at the sight before them with dazzled eyes, having known that this moment would come, but not quite knowing how to process it as real. There was no possibility of doubt at this point – the so-called Decadent Devils had returned. And the world would tremble before them.

"Do we have a plan?" Purple Heart asked, eyeing the wall of guns around them. She didn't recognize the make of the armaments being pointed their way, but she had no illusions about their effectiveness.

White Heart practically scoffed at her. "What? Aren't _you_ normally the one who makes the plan?"

"Not as of late, no." It took effort for Purple Heart to hold her tongue from further comments. She had the patience of a saint when it came to her friends, but Blanc's new tendency to bark orders at them was starting to rub her the wrong way.

"Well, shit."

Even despite the situation, Green Heart found herself chuckling at the Loweean CPU's reaction. "You never did care for being family friendly, did you?"

"I don't want to hear that crap from you!"

Black Heart gave an exasperated sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. She'd been hoping just as much as the others that Neptune would somehow get them out of this. The goddess of Planeptune always did seem like she'd allocated every single stat point into luck. Well, that wasn't quite right – half of them were dumped into charisma, too. Come to think of it, it was a bit strange that they always seemed to defer to Purple Heart whenever they were in trouble. Maybe it was time for someone else to take the reins for once. "We're a little outnumbered, but I think we can take them."

Purple Heart threw her a cautioning look. "I have my doubts about our chances of victory in a fight here. Even if we succeed, a lot of people would be hurt."

"Oh, _come on_. We're not afraid of a few bullets, are we?"

"I am," Jake managed to squeak out. "I'm quite afraid of bullets."

Black Heart's eye twitched as she turned her head toward the human. " _Quiet,_ you."

A few more officers were trickling in from below at this point. White Heart's grip on her weapon tightened. "Whatever we do, it needs to be soon."

Purple Heart turned her gaze upward, squinting at the spotlight shining from above. The source of the light was an aerial vehicle that vaguely resembled a helicopter, sans the rotors. In fact, there were no visible means of lift present on its matte black surface. The only part of it not coated in a light-absorbing material was the acronym LEPD printed in large, white letters across each side. The CPU took a moment to file through her memories of the games she had played for a term to use. "What about the VTOL up there? It looks sturdy enough to take a few hits for us. If we can get inside…"

"…and do what?" Black Heart questioned. "I don't suppose _you_ know how to fly that thing?"

"In a sense."

As soon as Black Heart saw the familiar smile on her rival's face, she could feel the fear melt away. That smile meant that there was no chance they could fail – at least, not while they were united against a common enemy. She gave a nod, lifting her weapon to a ready stance. "Okay. Let's do this."

The others barely even needed to exchange glances with their leader to let her know that she had their full support.

"Er…what about us?" Falcom asked.

"Make sure to hold on tight," was Purple Heart's answer.

"Lay down your weapons!" came the command they had been expecting for a while. The forces around them must've been growing impatient.

"Alright." Purple Heart exchanged another series of glances with the rest of the group before motioning to set her sword upon the ground. She reached down ever so slowly, keeping her eyes placed upon the faceless visors of those around her – one could easily feel the tension from those who bore the onus of attacking beings known as the devil goddesses. Would they really open fire if it came down to it?

" _NOW!_ "

A mere instant passed before the CPUs leapt into motion, leaving behind the ground beneath their feet and flying directly up to the vehicle hovering overhead. The force of the motion left behind a visible, multicolored trail, as if an afterimage of the ones that had been previously standing there.

The metal shell of the VTOL proved to not even be an obstacle to the power of a CPU's blade – a gash was cleaved directly across the bottom before being wrenched apart by a pair of gauntleted hands. The arms they were attached to seemed woefully inadequate for the inhuman strength on display.

"What the—"

The pilots hardly had time to register what was happening before being grabbed by those same hands and tossed through an opening that the vessel was most definitely not designed to have.

"Okay! We're in! So how do we move this damn thing?!" White Heart shouted, her voice nearly being drowned out by the collection of alarms blaring in the spacious cockpit – the seats lining the sides revealed that the vessel doubled as a transport.

"Like this!" Purple Heart hovered a few inches from the floor, curling up her legs and pressing her hands to the roof.

A worrying groan reverberated through the VTOL as its occupants were pulled downward by a sudden lurch. Then, a look out the new viewport in the bottom revealed that the city below seemed to be moving further away.

Black Heart gave a laugh when she realized what was happening. "Oh, man! This is such a blatant slap in the face to physics! I love it!" She leaned out the ragged hole and laughed even harder when she saw the personnel glancing about in what had to be total confusion. Most of them hadn't even realized which direction their quarry had gone in. Others were preoccupied by the two bodies that had just struck the roof, finally providing a clue to the whereabouts of the CPUs and co.. "Hah! See you later, idiots!"

Her head then snapped back with such violence that she was left lying on her back, her limbs sprawled in an unnatural pose.

" _No! Noire!_ " Purple Heart almost rushed over to her friend's side before the sound of a hundred objects striking the hull of the vessel met her ears. Several bullets came flying up into the interior of the vehicle, creating a hazardous spray of shrapnel that Falcom quickly moved to deflect.

"Come on!" yelled White Heart, who had joined the Planeptune CPU in pushing the vessel away from the scene of the crime. "We need to go!"

Green Heart hesitated for a moment, taking another look at Black Heart's unmoving body. "Is she…oh."

Black Heart's eyes had opened to a narrow squint, doing their best to gaze at the massive welt that had formed between them. She raised a shaky hand to touch the reddened skin there, rubbing it with a wince. A weak chuckle came from her, soon building up to a laugh tinged with more than a hint of insanity as the reality of the situation finally hit her. Or was it that her brain had been rattled around a bit too much by the force of being struck by an anti-materiel round, plus the equally powerful slap from Blanc?

"What a joke! You can't kill a fantasy! You can't kill _me!_ "


	21. Dichotomy

"We need to talk."

"Hello to you, too. Good grief. Do you ever lighten up?"

"No."

Relera had to fight to suppress the laugh that wanted out at that moment. The worst part is that she wasn't sure whether Kei was being serious or snarking right back at her. "Okay, then. What's this about? I'm kind of in the middle of something—"

"It's important."

Something about Kei's tone sent an unpleasant chill through the Duchess of Leanbox. Suddenly finding that she wasn't in the mood to trawl Nepapedia's article on mountain climbing – hadn't she started out reading about the history of sentai shows? – Relera closed the browser on her phone and raised it to her ear. "I'm listening."

"Where are you right now?"

"You mean you can't see me on that spy net of yours?"

"I could take the time to track the location of your phone, but it is easier to simply ask."

Relera gave a sigh – she hoped it was audible. "I'm at Leanbox Lake. Right outside the onsen, enjoying the fresh breeze and the sight of bikini-clad babes. You want the exact coordinates of the bench my butt is planted on, too?"

"That will not be necessary."

"Oh, come on. I even put my sexual orientation on the line just to make you crack a smile, and you're going to sandbag me? I'm hurt, I am."

The sound of an exhale could be heard over the phone. "I would ask that you not try my patience. You are lucky that I am extending the courtesy of consulting with you before acting on evidence that you are endangering the domain of the Goddess."

Relera felt her own breath catch in her throat. Kei was doing her best to sound calm, but it wasn't hard to tell that she was really pissed – or unnerved, at the least. "What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. Or will I need to ask your errand girl from Lowee to jog your memory? Perhaps I should send the entire transcript of those 'secret' meetings you have arranged with her?"

That chill from earlier came back with a vengeance and a half. "So did the Oracle decide to spill the beans?"

There was a pause. "No. She has not spoken with me on this subject. To be frank, I was hoping that you would be able to tell me more about her involvement. You must understand that the picture currently painted of your Basilicom is not a flattering one. I do not wish to act on impartial, and perhaps inaccurate, information, but I cannot simply sit idly by when such a threat is present."

"Ah…hold on, Kei. What were you planning on doing?"

Another pause. This one was longer than the last. "I cannot say. A number of choices are presented before me. I can only hope that you can help me follow through on the correct one."

Relera's mouth wrung itself into a thin line. Her throat suddenly felt dry, her hand gripping the phone a little too tightly. "I…"

"You are a Duchess of Gamindustri, Relera. Prove yourself worthy of the title for once."

It was hard to even believe that she was having a conversation like this. She knew she was far from an exemplary leader, but she had managed to coast along so far with minimal incident. Now, it seemed that her luck had finally run out. "What should I do?" The question was posed more to herself than to the person on the other end of the line, but it was heard nonetheless.

"I would ask that you at least answer one question for me. The goddesses…have they returned?"

"They…"

Her attention was suddenly drawn to the bathers lounging in the pools of the onsen. Many of them were gazing upward, several of them pointing at something in the sky. A low murmur met her ears as she turned her head to see what was causing the fuss.

An incredibly loud _crunch_ was the next thing to assault her senses, following by at least one scream. Before she even came to the realization that something had crashed into the skyway snaking above Leanbox, the object was already plummeting through the air. A veritable tidal wave exploded out from the lake when something large and heavy dropped right into it, followed by a cascade of cars and rubble. Several breathless moments passed before a few swimmers made their way over to the wreckage. At least one unconscious person was pulled from a vehicle before a quartet of splashes launched out from the water. The humanoid shapes that emerged were difficult to make out as they flew away at high speed in defiance of gravity, and they hardly caught the attention of those preoccupied by the disaster that had just unfolded.

"Relera? What's going on? Are you in danger?"

"Th…they're…" Relera forced herself to take a breath before rising to her feet with a quick motion. "Sorry. This meeting is adjourned."

"What? Do you not understand the impor—"

 _Beep_.

* * *

"What the hell was that about?!"

"I couldn't see where I was going!"

"Like hell, you couldn't!"

"Well maybe if Vert would've moved her big, fat _ballistics_ out of the way, I would've been able to see!"

"Excuse me?! I have no wish to be dragged into this argument! It is hardly my fault that you are too small in stature to see over the level of my chest!"

"Ladies, please—"

"This was _your_ stupid plan, Neptune!"

"Yeah! This whole idea was rotten from the _start!_ "

"Eh?" Purple Heart took a step back as the glares were suddenly turned her way. "But you all agreed to it?"

Black Heart gave a disgusted groan just as a shiver went through her. " _Uhg_. It's going to take _forever_ to get dry."

"Tch. You're practically wearing a bathing suit as it is," said White Heart.

"As if _you_ have any room to talk! I'm surprised that fat backside of yours manages to _fit_ in that getup!"

"Are you really calling me a—"

" _Ladies, please!_ "

Finally, silence came over the group. Other sounds returned to their ears – cars, conversation, sirens, and a dozen other noises that made up the ambience of Leanbox City. Yet, there was one element that was unfamiliar to them. It sounded much like a faint buzzing, coming from somewhere far above. A look upward revealed its source – drones. A teeming swarm of them hovered overhead, some of them swooping down between the skyscrapers of Leanbox, flying this way and that as if in pursuit of something. Had there always been so many?

"Staying here would only bring us more trouble," said Purple Heart. "We need to leave the city."

White Heart shook her head. "We can't. Not until the Festival is over."

Three of the CPUs jumped when a loud crunch shook the ground. "This whole trip has been nothing but a waste!" Black Heart rose back to her feet, having punched a sizeable web of cracks into the pavement of the abandoned lot they were standing within. "To _hell_ with this stupid Festival! I never wanted to come here in the first place!"

"Calm yourself, Noire," Purple Heart chided. "There has to be a reason Histoire sent us here."

"Does there?" Black Heart's gaze moved over the faces of the other goddesses. "She's been wrong before, hasn't she? What if this was just one huge mistake, and now we're stuck in this world with _nothing?!_ "

The party fell into silence again. None of them were able to meet Black Heart's eyes after such an outburst.

"Has it finally gotten through each of your thick skulls? If Blanc hadn't decided to start robbing banks or whatever she did to get all of that money, we'd be starving on the streets! Us! We're goddesses of Gamindustri, and here we are, sleeping in alleyways! We're supposed to be _queens!_ "

"A credit chit. I stole a credit chit." The words from White Heart were hardly more than a mumble. She seemed to be intently focused on wringing her hands as she added, " _Several_ credit chits. There's at least a dozen different ways it could've been noticed, but I managed to get enough value out of them to last us a while."

Green Heart's brow raised at this revelation. "Well, at least you're an honest thief. Of course, I can hardly approve of stealing from my own people, but…"

"They're not your people, Vert. This isn't your Leanbox. None of us belong here."

"Then what is the source of our shares? It is easy enough to sense that our connection to home has been severed. There is an energy present here – it is only logical to assume that we have followers in this land, yes?"

A sense of alarm suddenly shot through Purple Heart. "Where is the human boy?"

"I thought you had him?" asked Green Heart, her eyes darting around to confirm that only five people were present.

Purple Heart shook her head. "No. He…must've been left back in the lake."

" _Hmph,_ " Black Heart scoffed. "I didn't care for him, anyway. Useless NEET trash."

"Noire…" began Purple Heart. She then decided that it would be better to drop the point, lest she start an argument against Black Heart's pride.

White Heart gave her fingers a flex, gazing intently at her hand as she held it up. She threw a glance toward the CPU of Lastation before meeting Green Heart's eyes. "It doesn't make any sense. We shouldn't even have enough followers here to let us transform, let alone shrug off a bullet to the head."

"How can you know that?" Green Heart took a step forward, her gaze questioning. "Just how many things have you been keeping from us, Blanc?"

"I…" White Heart's head turned away, her words trailing off.

An irritated groan came from Black Heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Noire? Where are you going?" The question had come from Purple Heart.

"I'm leaving."

"You can't leave," White Heart immediately insisted.

That was enough to make Lastation's goddess stop. She turned her head back to face the others. "Why not?"

"There's no way through the magic surrounding the city," explained the CPU of Lowee. "We're stuck in here until the sun rises."

A wry smirk briefly formed on Black Heart's face. "If you say so."

She barely took another step forward before Purple Heart called out to her again. "Noire."

"Get my name off your tongue. I'm not your friend. I never was."

Moments later, Black Heart was taking off into the air, the dark outline of her armor quickly becoming one with the night sky.

Purple Heart would have moved to race after her if she was not interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Green Heart's solemn expression.

"Let her go. She can be difficult if she wishes to be. Either way, she's not worth the effort."

A sudden rage flashed through the CPU of Planeptune at these words. She reached up to yank the hand away with such force that Green Heart was sent stumbling backwards. Purple Heart glared at the startled CPU for a time before charging forth and leaping into the air after her rival.

Green Heart took a moment to rub where her arm had been so rudely gripped. " _Well_ , then. Noire, I can understand, but Neptune…" The goddess gave a heavy sigh. "What does she see in that arrogant fool?"

"'Her heart is tuned to resonate with the unforgiving beat of a tsundere.'"

A slight smile managed to form on Green Heart's mouth. "Hah. It was not too long ago that I bought a copy of the doujin you wrote that line in." She turned to face White Heart. "Are you suggesting that Neptune has a masochistic streak in her?"

"Considering her friendship with Plutia…"

"Plutia? Is this someone I should know?"

White Heart's eyes suddenly widened in alarm. "Er…nevermind. Forget I said anything."

"My, my. That was quite a pale shade you turned just then. Perhaps I will be performing a little _investigation_ once this is all over, hm?"

"If we get that far."

The mirth on Green Heart's face faded. "Should we go after them? Our best chances are likely to be as a group, after all."

"Not yet. They will need some time. Otherwise, we'll have to go through this all over again."

A nod. Green Heart turned her head to view where two of the CPUs had disappeared into the sky. There was no telling where they were by now. "I suppose you may be right."

White Heart decided that it was finally time to acknowledge the outsider among them. " _You've_ been awfully quiet."

Falcom gave a little chuckle, although it was more forced than usual. "I figured that it was best not to meddle in the affairs of goddesses."

Green Heart put on a reassuring smile. "Especially when they are busy exposing themselves as the bickering children they are, hm?"

* * *

 _Ah – such a delicious drama. What will the great Black Heart do now, hm? Will she finally reject her friends as enemies as she should have done so long ago? Or will she come crawling back once more, pitiful and mewling, feeling the crushing desperation of loneliness from her all-too-human self?_

The stagnant air brushed against Black Heart as she flew over the cityscape of Leanbox. It occurred to her that she would likely end up being spotted and encounter the local police force once again, but she hardly cared. If they bothered her, she would just rip them apart and continue on her way. It was a fitting end for anyone who dared to attack a CPU.

 _Merciless defender of Lastation – always so quick to dismiss the lives of others. But what measure is a mortal in the eyes of such a being? Certainly, the pilots you threw to their deaths were not worth a second thought, hm?_

" _Shut UP!_ "

She was forced to make a landing on top of a particularly tall building as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her once more. The goddess almost immediately dropped to her knees, her fingertips creating chips in the roof as she caught herself. She raised a hand, examining the deadly set of claws that she found there. This didn't belong to a person – this belonged to a machine. A creation. A fantasy.

" _It must really suck to be human." These were your own words, yes? Are you not satisfied with what you are, Black Heart?_

The question was impossible to answer. Yet, somehow the CPU managed to channel the hundreds of conflicting thoughts clouding her mind into a single, overriding statement. "I don't know what I am." The words were spoken flatly, her eyes focused on nothing as she lowered her hand.

 _Oh? Surely you know at least that much. You are a Console Patron Unit, a creature of divine origin. A being who lives or dies on share energy, which may be garnered through any method it wishes. Nothing less, and nothing more._

"No." Black Heart gave her head a little shake. "There _must_ be something more."

 _And just what do you believe that "something more" to be, CPU of Lastation?_

"Noire!"

Black Heart perked up when she heard the voice in the distance. It took some glancing about to find its source, but soon enough she could see a figure approaching against the darkness of the starless sky.

The goddess of Planeptune came to a graceful landing a few feet away, leaving a cautious gap between them. A sigh of relief came from her. "I'm glad I managed to catch up to you. You always were the fastest—"

"Go away." If Black Heart had bothered to turn her head, she would've easily seen how taken aback her rival was.

"Noire?"

" _Go away_. I'm not in the mood to bother with you."

"I see." Purple Heart's gaze turned downward for a moment. "All I wanted was to give an apology, but if you wish to be left alone…"

 _No. I don't want to be alone._ The words almost escaped Black Heart's lips, but some part of her still held back. "An apology?"

A nod. "Yes. For dragging you into this mess. And…well, for all the mean things I've done to you, too. I realize that I've hardly been a good friend."

Black Heart didn't even know where to start. She collapsed forward, barely able to hold back the tears that had been lining her eyes. All she could manage to say was, "I don't understand."

"Oh? What do you mean, Noire?" Purple Heart's gaze moved away for a moment as she thought something over. "Is my apology not enough?"

"I…I wish I could be you. It must be so much simpler to see the world from your eyes."

The Planeptune CPU's brow raised in genuine surprise before she gave a chuckle. "Now _I_ don't understand."

Black Heart finally managed to raise her head to gaze upon the goddess beside her. She wished she could wipe away the tears running down her cheeks, but her hands were still covered in those metal gauntlets. "How do you handle being _you?_ You bounce between being such a stupid little girl and such a stylish, kind, _perfect_ woman so easily…How does it not drive you insane? I can't even handle being _me._ "

Another laugh came from Purple Heart, this one more nervous than the last. "'Perfect?' Is that how you see me? That's hardly the case, Noire. I've made just as many mistakes as you. Probably more, in fact. I just can't remember most of them."

Black Heart beat a fist against the roof, throwing fragments of dirt and rock into the air. "Dammit…you're even more humble than me on top of everything else…"

"Wait." A pause. "Are you…jealous?"

A wry smile twisted its way onto Black Heart's mouth. "Finally, you're starting to get it. Yes, I'm jealous. Envious as can be…but not of _you_. Without _you_ , Neptune wouldn't be worth a single damn. And yet, without Neptune, _I_ wouldn't exist. _None_ of us would. Why does an idiot like her get to be so important…so loved? Why does _she_ get to have _you?_ "

"I…see. You speak as if I am two separate beings, but…"

"Aren't you?"

A moment passed before Purple Heart shook her head, causing her braids to sway. "No. Even if it was true, it wouldn't matter. Neptune and Purple Heart are two sides of the same coin. One cannot exist without the other. Besides – it's not as if Neptune isn't without her own merits. She certainly knows how to turn a frown upside-down." A chuckle followed.

Black Heart fell into silence as she absorbed this.

"Noire, listen—"

"I'm not 'Noire.' I'm _Lady_ Noire, or _Lady_ Black Heart, with everything that the names entail. I'm a _CPU_ , with everything _that_ name entails. I'm an empty shell that rules a nation called Lastation. I'm a _machine_ that gets its power from wooing people with _cheap entertainment_. No _wonder_ I was given a human form to hide in – no one would follow something like me if they knew what I really was. But it's so easy to trick someone if you look like a cute little girl, isn't it?"

Purple Heart practically rolled her eyes at this. "Come now, Noire. You're being even more of an angst-ridden mess than your sister." She took a step forward, reaching down a hand. "I would at least ask you to stand. It's hardly befitting of a CPU to bow to another."

"Look at this." Black Heart raised a hand, but instead of taking the one offered to her, she placed a materializing object into its palm.

"What—"

" _Look at it._ "

Planeptune's CPU gave a shrug as the white glow surrounding the object faded, bringing it fully into existence through a method developed deep within some secretive laboratory. "A handheld console?" A little grin formed on the CPU's face. "Ah. The one you signed for the boy? I'm sure the owner would be glad to have it back. And who better to deliver it to him than his idol?" She reached down to hand it back to her friend.

Black Heart accepted it without a word. She immediately began to tap away at the screen, a task made difficult by the sharpness of her fingertips. It occurred to her that interfacing with the device would be a lot easier with human hands.

 _Ah. Such a great irony, is it not? Or is it perhaps fitting? If one was to consider just what – or who – this console could represent—_

 _Don't even go there. I'll kill you._

A laugh could be felt, seeming much like a distant echo. _And how, pray tell, would you go about accomplishing such a task? One may as well attempt to strangle one's self._

For a few moments, there was the tapping of metal on plastic. Finally, Black Heart managed to coax the console into navigating to the correct menu. "Look," she spoke, holding it up to have it exchange hands again.

Purple Heart's curiosity was piqued as she struggled for a second to position her fingers comfortably on the edges of the device. Her brow raised almost immediately when she saw what was on display. "A-Ah…how lewd, as Vert might say."

"There's more. A _lot_ more, I'm sure."

It was hard to discern just what the goddess of Planeptune was thinking as she took several minutes to browse the device's contents. Black Heart had only just scratched the surface and decided she'd had her fill, and yet Purple Heart didn't seem as if she'd be satisfied until she saw every inch of what was in store.

"Are you done yet?" Patience had never been one of Black Heart's virtues.

"Almost."

Finally, Purple Heart handed the console back, her expression remaining neutral.

Lastation's CPU dared a glance at the last image that had been checked. She was surprised to find that the lovingly detailed picture there could only be described as "lewd" by the most inclusive of definitions – one of Neptune and Noire lying in a grassy field beside one another, a smile and a blush on their faces, a hand from each being held together between them with a tentative grasp.

 _It's…adorable._

Black Heart stared at the scene for a time, realizing how ridiculous it was that such a fantastical depiction could stir some unspeakable feeling within her, but tensing up all the same. The urge to slam the device onto the hard surface of the roof seemed to possess her arm, and it took every bit of her will to maintain control.

 _Pitiful._

She hardly felt the pain shoot through her knuckles when her fist smashed down. In her other hand, the console remained safely clutched from her wrath, although her grip was threatening to scratch the screen. Letting out a breath, she dematerialized the device into her storage. "Do you see now?"

Purple Heart gave a bashful chuckle. "Ah…I saw _many_ things, Noire. It may not have been the best choice to let my curiosity get the better of me, but..."

"You really don't get it, do you? Funny. Maybe you're more like Neptune than I thought."

"Oh? I would be the first to admit my own lack of intelligence. But, as before, I am curious – enlighten me, please."

Black Heart opened her mouth to begin what promised to be quite the diatribe, but something gave her pause. She slumped back down, her gaze turning away. A mirthless little laugh came from her. "How? How do you do it? Every time I think I might hate you, you manage to melt it all away. You're just too…" She held back from repeating the description of "perfect."

 _More perfect than thou, perhaps?_

Claws scraped against the roof as Black Heart's fingers clenched. "You were made to be my _enemy_. What is it that I'm _missing?_ "

Purple Heart offered her hand, as she had before. "Who's to say that you're missing anything at all?"

A moment of hesitation passed as Black Heart looked up. She accepted the hand, rising to her feet. Her heart fluttered, taking in a breath and turning her gaze away when she realized how close she was standing to her rival. "It doesn't make any sense. Why are you so good to me? I've fought against you for such a long time. I've done everything I can to make you hate me. Aren't we meant to compete with each other? To trick humans into giving us their strength?"

"Only if you believe that to be the case."

Black Heart gave a slight nod, her eyes growing unfocused. "And what if I do?"

"Then you would try to kill me. You might even succeed."

"I already tried once. You came back better. Then I tried again. It went even worse than the last time."

Black Heart felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned her head to see Purple Heart's warm smile. The sight of it was enough to make her blush.

"You can give it a third try, if you want," spoke the Planeptune goddess. "It's your decision to make."

That image of the CPUs lying dead at Black Heart's feet came back to mind without provocation – it refused to leave.

 _It would be so easy, would it not? Such a clueless fool would hardly be able to muster the courage to fight her so-called friend._

"Noire?"

 _Are you so daft as to throw away an opportunity to get your revenge for so much humiliation? To claim your rightful place above all others?_

"I'm just as much of a machine as you, if you wish to use such a word."

 _Is your worthless heart too enraptured by the allure of those beautiful curves? That lovely face?_

"But can a machine think? Or feel? Or make its own decisions?"

 _What a shame – the very mechanism you use to entrance your followers will prove to be your downfall. What use is attraction to a being that cannot even reproduce?_

"Why limit yourself in such a way when you can be a goddess?"

Black Heart's shoulders slumped. She didn't even know what she feeling by this point. Pride, jealousy – many stories existed of entire empires falling because of these heartworms. Yet, even after having come to terms with them, she still felt something just as insidious eating away at her.

 _It must really suck to be human._

"I don't want to be a machine. Or a goddess. I…"

"Hm." Purple Heart lowered her hand from her friend's arm, taking a slight step back. "Of course. Now it makes sense. But the Noire I know would never abandon her duty as a CPU."

Black Heart closed her eyes for a moment, the corners of her mouth forming a wry smile. "Then I'm not the Noire you know." Without further prompting, she took off into the air, once again leaving behind what she had for so long believed to be the source of her heartache.

 _What a twist. Even the almighty Black Heart is too weak to face her feelings. Or perhaps Noire has seeped too much of her influence into you. After all, the CPU of Lastation was never destined to form bonds of kinship. In this moment, you are corrupted – a half-breed. You cannot hope to continue in such a self-destructive state for long._

 _No. I'm not Noire. I'm not Black Heart. And I'm not some disgusting mixture of the two. I'm me._

 _Hah. Believe in a pointless twisting of words if you wish. I ask only that you prove me wrong – such an occurrence would be an interesting change, indeed._


	22. Empty Rebellion

_Is it everything you hoped it would be, CPU of Lowee?_

The heart of the Land of Green Pastures was an altogether different beast when viewed from the heightened position of its skyway. A marvel of engineering that served as the envy of Gamindustri's many overcrowded streets, Leanbox's elevated network of highways provided an elegant solution to the issue of a growing population filling a finite space. The idea had first been pioneered years ago in Planeptune, but the skyway of Leanbox was far more expansive than any other construct of its type, and it had only grown in scope as time had passed. Many objections had been voiced about the hundreds of possible issues that such a project could cause, but it would not be surprising to see more cities thrown into shade by their own special roads in the near future.

From here, the glare of the city's ever-present glow burned at the eyes far more harshly than down below. While Leanbox possessed its fair share of skyscrapers, much of the horizon was unobstructed at this elevation, making the contrast against the night-shrouded world seem all the more conspicuous. The city was a great glob of light in the midst of a wide open void, as if held in place only by the strength of the walls surrounding it. Yet, one side was left unprotected – the border between the sky and the ground was impossible to make out there behind the few buildings that managed to stretch above eye level.

 _Ah. The ocean. Truly, such an expanse must seem beyond comprehension to you. Why, in a world with such a great open space available, would its denizens choose to crowd together? Realize now that so much of the world is rendered inhabitable by an obstacle as simple as water._

"It's not really so strange. People naturally seek companionship. It would make sense for communities to grow in size with that in mind, regardless of available space."

The wind generated by a busy road whipped at Blanc's clothes, her ears being assaulted by each and every vehicle that zoomed by beneath her. There was no walkable area designated in this section of the skyway – so she had made use of the network of supports above, her legs dangling dangerously above a road where rush hour was every hour. With so many streets on the ground level sectioned off for pedestrians during the Festival, the skyway was currently experiencing an unprecedented amount of traffic on top of its normally busy volume.

 _A gross oversimplification, would you not say?_

"I'm not in the mood to debate with you again. If I wanted to go into details, I'd open a book on the subject."

 _Fair enough. But I must question your assumption, all the same. Do you not prefer the solitude of your fortress, the Basilicom? Would it not drive you mad to never have the peace you require to read even a single page of your ever-growing library?_

Blanc found it difficult to come up with a response. It was true that she was a loner by both choice and habit. She would almost say that she would prefer to spend her entire life not having to deal with another living, breathing person. Yet, at the same time, even she sometimes needed an outlet for her ideas. What use would it be to write for an audience that didn't exist? Besides – she'd miss the magical air present at the doujinshi festivals, if nothing else, as much effort as it took for her to convince herself to participate. "I'm a goddess. My nature is different from that of humans."

Somewhere in the distance could be heard a muted chuckle. _A leader of a nation cannot simply sidestep a presented issue forever. What choice would White Heart make if she was forced to give an answer, I wonder?_

 _She would draw a blank._ Blanc could feel her brow furrow as her mind reached and strained. The hamster wheel was refusing to turn for her in this moment. It was a sensation she usually only associated with writer's block. "Does there have to _be_ an answer?"

Another chuckle. _Such a sentiment can be an answer in and of itself. But a ruler does not become popular by ignoring an issue._

"It's good that I can become popular through other methods, then, isn't it?"

 _Ah, but what if a goddess does not wish to resort to such sordid methods?_

"Then she'll die. Or vanish. A CPU has to have shares to exist."

 _Perhaps if you believe that, then you will be needing to have a talk with our Lastation sister, eh, Blansy?  
_

"'Our' sister? Are you…"

* * *

The girl only just barely caught herself from falling forward as the sound of rushing cars snapped her to awareness. Her heart thumped in her chest faster than seemed possible, her eyes growing to the size of saucers. She was so certain that she was going to slip off the edge of the grated platform. Vertigo seized her, rooting her in place.

A set of metallic taps came from behind her, audible even over the insane blur of traffic below. Her hands turned white as she gripped the edge of the platform. She wasn't sure whether she was shaking from the vibrations of the highway or from her own trembling. She dared not to look over her shoulder – even moving a single muscle could prove disastrous.

"Don't give me that nonsense. You know I'm here. And I'm willing to bet you know exactly why."

Her grip somehow tightened even further. The voice belonged to a woman – a rather cross one, at that.

"We don't have all night, you know."

At least there was some sense to be had now. It was true that the girl couldn't just sit there forever – her stomach gave a low growl as if in response. Slowly, she turned her head, still fearing that she would drop into certain death. It then occurred to her that if she continued to sit, the woman might push her off anyway. That was enough to convince the girl to rise to her feet and face whoever was waiting for her.

"Took you long enough."

No words came to the girl as she absorbed the sight before her. What _was_ this creature? Was she perhaps an angel or demon, sent from another realm? Or was she in fact a manmade creation, a being that represented an incredible triumph of engineering?

" _What?_ " The woman's face clearly showed her annoyance, if her tone wasn't enough of an indication. "Quit…quit giving me that stare! I _hate_ it when you do that!"

The girl blinked, but her gaze did not turn away.

" _Ahg!_ " A pained wail came from the woman as she doubled over, grasping her head with both hands. A moment passed before she spoke, her words barely audible, "You already know what I'm going to say, don't you? You already know what choices I'm going to make, don't you? I can't even figure out _myself_ , but you know everything that there is to know about me, _don't you?_ "

"No..." The girl shook her head before saying more loudly, "No. I don't know everything. I'm not sure I know anything at all."

"Why? Why do you always do this?" The woman lowered her hands, placing them on her knees. "Is...is this a test? Some kind of nightmare? Am I strapped into a machine right now while a bunch of eggheads do everything they can to break me?" Her head snapped up to meet the girl's gaze. "Well? _Am I?_ "

The girl barely resisted the urge to jump back when the woman suddenly jolted upright and stepped forward, her foot stomping down on the metal beneath with a loud, resonating _clang_.

"Just give me a straight answer for once, won't you?!"

Why was this being pleading, tears in her eyes, with a person who could remember nothing? It was all such a blur…"Y-You're bleeding."

Several red droplets were streaming from the woman's hairline, turning her face into even more of a mess than it already was. She raised a hand, brushing a palm against her forehead to confirm that it was more than just sweat creating the sensation of an itch there. "These claws…nothing more than a nuisance." She turned her attention back to the girl. "You think this is funny, don't you?" A laugh lacking all signs of mirth came from the woman. "I bet you're having the time of your life here." She took a step forward. " _You_ get to be the star of the show." Another step. " _You_ get to know the script in advance." And another. " _You_ get to laugh behind my back while I'm fumbling around, making a fool of myself." A sigh. "I just look like the biggest idiot in the world, _don't I?_ "

The girl was forced to step back, but there was precious little room to move behind her. The woman's face was awfully close – the insane look in her eyes was not one that instilled confidence. "Are you going to kill me?"

The woman absorbed this statement for a moment, her expression becoming unreadable. Finally, she took several steps back, placing a comfortable distance between them. "That would hardly be fair, would it?"

Just before the girl could breathe a sigh of relief, she found the tip of a massive sword pointed mere inches from her nose.

"Draw your weapon."

There was no answer.

"Come on! _Fight me!_ That's what CPUs do, _isn't it?_ You're a CPU, aren't you, _White Heart?_ Let's hurry up and get this over with!"

 _White Heart._

"I have no reason to fight you."

The woman faltered, lowering her sword slightly. She tilted her head, a wry smile appearing on her lips. "Hmph. I figured you'd say something like that." Her sword continued to drop ever so slowly – that is, until she jumped up into a battle-ready stance. "But there's just no choice in the matter, now is there?"

The blade came in a flash, cutting through at a speed faster than most humans could process. Even still, the assailant wasted no time staring in surprise when she found that her target had already moved. Black Heart spun on her heel, sword once again at the ready in preparation for a retaliatory strike.

But none came. Blanc stood several feet away near the center of the platform, her face now as blank as it always was. She still hadn't bothered to transform, much less summon her hammer.

"You don't even need a weapon when you can just read my mind, do you? Hah! You dirty cheat." A confident grin had appeared on Black Heart's face in contrast with the rage in her eyes. "I suppose it's about time I learn to stop playing fair. See if you can dodge _this!_ "

* * *

"Is something the matter, Ms. Natal?"

Relera's fingers ceased in their endless dancing upon the door of the limousine. She tore her gaze away from the window long enough to face the man seated across from her, his balding head giving off a shine with every streetlamp and headlight that passed by. "Why would something be the matter?"

The assistant put on his most reassuring smile, giving his head a slight bow. "Ah…it just seems as if something may weigh on your mind at this particular moment, Your Grace."

It was hard not to grimace. It had come as a surprise to Relera when she'd found out that the man had a six pack hidden beneath that ill-fitting suit of his, true, but a dozen wrinkly lines, a crooked, broken nose, and a cartoonishly ridiculous scar that traced from his brow to his jawline did nothing to make him anything more than ugly as sin. If it was up to her, she would've replaced him with a handsome butler ages ago. Then again, a cute maid wasn't out of the question, either. Maybe if the maid had to wear cat ears…

Relera quickly shook her head. _No, no, best not to give anyone any weird ideas. I have enough to deal with without adding some saucy rumors to the pile._

"Nothing at all, then? No troubles to speak of? Ah, but perhaps you are simply missing the warmth of the golden sun? Do not worry yourself too much, Your Grace – daylight will return soon enough."

An annoyed groan came from the Duchess as she turned her attention back to the man. " _Uhg._ Why do you always have to _bother_ me? They didn't hire you to be a…psychiatrist." Her lips tightened into a line – she'd almost let slip a curse.

 _Surely, it wouldn't do to cultivate the reputation that the Duchess of Leanbox speaks as crudely as any commoner in private, hm?_

"Ah…if I may, Your Grace, I would point out that a psychiatrist is employed specifically to treat mental illnesses. Unless there is a sickness ailing Your Grace that this humble servant is not aware of? Err…aside from _the one._ "

 _Your Grace, this. Your Grace, that._ Relera clenched her teeth, feeling the frustration burn at her. Why couldn't she work with a _single_ person who didn't drive her up the wall? "My job would be _so_ much easier if Cave had never quit, it would."

That seemed to be exactly the right type of attack to wipe that stupid grin off the man's face. "Again, if I may, Ms. Natal – Cave was never under Your Grace's employ for even a single day. In fact, she left the Basilicom under, shall we say, _unusual_ circumstances years before Your Grace was ever even considered for the position of Duchess."

It was true that Relera had never gotten the full story about Cave's departure from the Basilicom. The one time she'd gotten curious enough to investigate had led to a dead end. What did a person have to _do_ to get their bio classified to someone who ruled a fourth of a nation? Still, she'd heard enough rumors to piece together an image of the woman, in the same manner that she'd learned of Chika's exploits. Cave and Chika – one the very essence of stoic, the other being the example in the dictionary for the word "unstable." So many _delicious_ stories existed of the quirks and scandals that were had during that era.

The assistant managed to recover his smile, albeit tinged with a nervous edge. "Ms. Natal, please understand that it is only natural for this assistant to worry when the leader of a state suddenly calls to be retrieved after it was assumed that she was resting safely in her quarters. Our Duchess' habit of leaving the Basilicom grounds without even a single word is, if I may say such a thing, unspeakably reckless, Your Grace. Your call left our security department in such a panic, it did."

"I know."

The man's brow raised at this admission. "Then why has Your Grace decided to show such a disregard for—"

A fist slammed against the inside of the door closest to the Duchess, but it managed to hold firm against the assault. Her teeth clenched once again, her nostrils flaring as she let out a breath.

"Is everything alright back there?" a voice called from the front. The face of a bodyguard was visible leaning from the passenger seat, although the black suit covering his body from the neck down was too dark to make out.

Relera waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine."

The face lingered for a moment before disappearing in front of the back of the seat.

Relera's assistant was still hanging on to that smile, but the light holding steady on him revealed the bead of sweat glistening on his forehead. "Ah. Perhaps our Duchess is in need of a vacation? Such stress is not healthy for the mind, Your Grace must know."

The Duchess lifted a hand to run down her face with a tight grasp. What good would a vacation do? She leaned back in the seat and let out a quiet sigh. Her gaze moved to view the assistant as she cycled through a variety of possible responses, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention before she opened her mouth. She slid over closer to the door to get a better look, pressing her hands against the window.

"Ms. Natal?" the assistant questioned, before he also turned to see what seemed to be so important.

They had been stuck in what appeared to be gridlock traffic for the past minute after their progress for much of the trip had been smooth sailing. Sure, the Festival was guaranteed to make driving through the city's ground level a complicated experience, but their chosen route was supposed to be free of obstructions or busy intersections. It seemed that an explanation could be found in the crowds that were gathering around the limousine – but their attention was not turned toward the vehicle housing the leader of Leanbox.

Directly outside the window of the limousine, a television screen could be seen in the side of a building, being of a size large enough to be clearly legible even from across a wide plaza that was steadily filling with people. More and more citizens and tourists alike were pouring in from either side of the plaza's entrance to get a closer look. On the opposite side of the four-lane road, a similar story could be seen as people crowded around a much smaller television that sat above the entrance to a retailer. And, if one was to look ahead beyond the line of cars that were currently blocked by pedestrian traffic, one would see yet another crowd formed on the corner of the intersection there.

The sound-dampened environment of the limousine's interior blocked out anything that either the televisions or the pedestrians might be saying, but one hardly needed to hear to understand the confusion on display. Every one of the screens were tuned to what was clearly a news broadcast. A ticker was visible on the bottom – the largest text currently scrolling through read "BREAKING: Return of the Devils? Battle Against Alleged CPUs Leaves 11 Dead, 16 Injured." On the screen was aerial footage of a scene that should've been impossible.

A series of white lights suddenly played across the crowds, drawing some attention upward. A fleet of VTOLs and drones could be seen flying by overhead above the skyway, their shapes obscured by the blooming glares of spotlights. It didn't take much work to figure out what they were looking for.

 _See them stare in awe. See them tremble as the realization falls upon them. Can you feel it, Duchess of Leanbox? Can you feel your world being swept from beneath you?_

 _Yes._

 _Can you feel the end coming with each passing breath?_

 _I can._

 _Does it strike fear into your mortal heart, I wonder?_

 _It does._

 _Ah, but do not fret – you are not alone, for there is at least one being in all of existence who can empathize with your powerlessness against the inevitable._

 _Who?_

The Duchess blinked. A cool sensation was coming from her hands. She jumped back, moving away from the window. Her foot caught against something, and she fell backward onto the seat beneath her.

"Ms. Natal?"

Relera lay there for a moment before raising a hand to brush the hair from her face. She lifted her head to see a man giving her a concerned look. "Who are you?"

The man's eyes widened, his face stretching in clear dismay as he slowly mouthed the words, "Oh, dear. Not again."

* * *

"If you're not…going to fight me…you can at least…stay… _still!_ "

Blanc's gaze seemed to be unblinking as she focused on avoiding each one of Black Heart's strikes. Yet, it was less that the CPU of Lowee was impossibly quick and more that she was simply not _there_ when the attacks came.

"Stop…cheating! Just…die!" With a primal yell, Black Heart's blade came down for one last swing to crash into the platform. " _Arhg!_ "

Sensing that there was a break in the battle, Blanc took the opportunity to speak. "You know that this fight is pointless. You have nothing to gain from attacking me."

"'Nothing to gain?'" A bratty laugh came from Black Heart. She threw her arms up, motioning toward the sky. The air was buzzing with the engines of a swarm of drones that was steadily increasing in size. "The whole _world_ will be watching this! _What_ an introduction, huh? Can you _imagine_ the shares I'll get from killing you?!"

"What good will shares be when you're left on your own in a dying world?"

Any hint of arrogance present in Black Heart's expression was replaced with pure rage at this statement. "How do you not get this?! Shares are _everything!_ They're all we _live_ for!" The goddess faltered, taking a step back as her gaze softened. "It doesn't matter how much I hate this. We're enemies to the bitter end…and if we're going to be stuck fighting each other for the rest of eternity, I'd rather do it in real combat than in a damn _swimsuit contest!_ " Black Heart reached forward to pull her sword free from the metal beneath – the platform must have been made of advanced materials indeed to withstand any force at all from a CPU's weapon. Or had her blade lost its edge? "It would all be…so much easier…if I could just…kill you!" She fell over backwards as her grip on the sword's hilt suddenly slipped. Instead of screaming in fury, however, she simply lay there, panting, struggling to catch her breath.

Black Heart could barely muster the strength to lift her head as her opponent's shadow moved over to obscure the glow meeting her eyes. "Why? Why can't I ever win?"

Blanc stared down for a moment, not sure how to feel about the broken look on her fallen enemy's face. "Because you still don't understand your role."

"My role can go _stuff itself_." Black Heart attempted to punctuate her words by slamming a fist down, but all she could manage was a slight _thump_ against the grating.

"All you're doing is wasting your strength. You should be saving it for the battles to come."

"I don't care."

"Really? You don't care? Is that the best excuse you have? And after all this time, you _still think_ you're the mature one? What about your 'useless' followers? What about your friends? What about your _sister?_ Are you really enough of an idiot to throw everything away for the chance to become this world's next _Queen Nothing?_ "

For once, Blanc's icy stare was giving way to that familiar old anger. Black Heart could finally feel the fear that had been creeping at the back of her mind come right to the forefront. "'Friends?'" She gave a weak little laugh. "Don't be _ridiculous_. You think I haven't heard this exact same story a dozen times over? I bet you've _written_ one of them." The CPU forced a wry smile onto her face, but the twitching of her mouth belied her true feelings. "How am _I_ the one who doesn't get 'my role' when _I'm_ the only one still willing to keep the War going? How am _I_ the weird one for not wanting to sell this fake body to stay alive? How am _I_ the spoiled one for not wanting my lover to be _hand-crafted_ for me?! I…" She took in a shaky breath. "I don't want to be… _this._ "

Blanc raised a hand to her chin in thought. "Funny. I didn't think my experience raising Rom and Ram would prove useful elsewhere. I was wrong – you already understand completely, and yet you're just lashing out like a child. Face it. Your energy is spent. Your shares are dwindling. And this tantrum is getting old."

Black Heart's teeth clenched, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. "You're not my mother."

"No. I'm not. But I think our mother would agree that you're being a brat."

Precious seconds passed before a glow emanated from Black Heart, her sword vanishing to leave behind a gash in the floor. In her place when the light subsided was the much frailer form of Noire, clad in the dress she had obtained from the Idlers Inn. She rolled her head to get a better look at the goddess standing over her. "I…I didn't ask to be made a brat."

"No. You chose to be one just now."

Noire let out a breath, a genuine smile attempting to form on her lips. "I guess I'm not _completely_ powerless then, huh?"

"Again, no. But, even as goddesses, there are limits to our power. You know this, as does every human. No one asks to be made the way they are, but they do what they can with what they're given. Raging against the heavens isn't going to change that."

"But humans don't need shares. There's…nothing quite like us, is there?"

"Hm. I suppose not."

A silence fell over the two. Noire's expression grew clouded, her gaze turning to the side. "I said to myself that I wanted to be me. Not Noire. Not Black Heart. But…"

Blanc merely continued to study Noire's face, waiting for the CPU of Lastation to continue.

"I…can't. I'm stuck like this. I can't change who – or what – I am. I'm a CPU, now, and forever. It doesn't matter what _I_ want. I exist to serve, and nothing more. I just…" She attempted to lift her head to view Blanc's studious expression. "I just want to know…how it is that you manage to live like this? To spend every single waking moment having to worry about the shares? Knowing that even a single slip of the tongue can be the end? Why am _I_ the only one who seems to struggle with the existence she was given?"

Blanc's brow furrowed as she raised a hand to her mouth. Was Noire the only one of them who was unhappy with her lot in life?

 _Perhaps she was not created to be happy, hm? Would that not be a sick and twisted fate, to be crafted in such a way?_

That wasn't quite the answer. It just didn't add up. But Blanc had some inkling that may at least point them in the right direction. "You're afraid, aren't you? Afraid that you can't meet your own ridiculous standards. Afraid that you're not as perfect as you claim to be. You've built an image that you can't possibly live up to, and you know that it's all going to come crashing down one day. Because that image isn't _you._ It took hardly even five minutes for that fanboy of yours to realize that, didn't it? Well, gee – what if _everyone_ figured that out?"

Noire's mouth tightened into a thin line, clearly holding back some kind of emotional outburst. Her gazed turned aside as a sniffle came from her.

 _Ah. It appears that you have struck the mark. Well done, CPU of Lowee._

 _Only the lowliest of hack writers don't understand the characters in their story._

"Quit yer cryin'," Blanc spoke. "If you want my pity, you're not getting it. You dug yourself into this hole. It's up to you to pull yourself out. You said I'm not your mother, right? Well, I'm not your damn therapist, either." The glare that had formed on the CPU's face softened. "But I _am_ your sister, in a sense. And your sister is telling you to grow up and _deal with it_. You know that face you're making right now is going to be all over national television, right?"

"I know." The words were barely audible, but they were there.

"Come on. Get up. We've got work to do." Blanc kneeled down, reaching out a hand. "There's no time to be feeling sorry for yourself."

Another sniffle came from Noire as she took the offered hand, her mouth managing a shy smile. "So…ah…I guess I'm sorry for trying to kill you. Is…is it too late for me to choose to be your friend, Blanc? Am I…allowed?"

Blanc's brow lowered at this, her face scrunching up slightly. She kept their hands clasped together as she said, "My friend? Why? Because you don't want to be by yourself? That's odd. I thought you hated needing a friend. I thought you _liked_ being alone. Or is it that you still want others to bail you out of trouble when needed? Maybe you just want someone who'll listen to your endless whining and complaining with a straight face? Wait – I know. You need someone around to feel superior to with those pert little ta-tas of yours. That's what it is. _I_ see."

The shock on Noire's face was plain to see, even in the dim lighting. "Th-That's not…"

"Isn't it? You reject Neptune so handily because she's 'made' for you, and yet you keep running back to me like a scared little girl. Funny how that works. Newsflash: I don't know everything. And I sure as _hell_ don't want to be a part of your love triangle."

"Wh-What? But why did you…I don't…"

"Is that how you react to everything that's too much for you to handle? You just scream, and cry, and pout, and _whine?_ Pathetic. I can't believe I ever considered you an equal in the Console War."

"Fine! I'm _not_ sorry, then!" Noire let out a frustrated yell. " _Ahhh!_ I just can't figure you _out!_ "

Blanc leaned her face in closer, squeezing Noire's hand a little tighter. "Let me spell it out for you, then: I don't want to be your friend. I don't give a _rat's ass_ about you. But I'm stuck with you. And you're stuck with me. Just as we're stuck with Neptune. And Vert. And all of our sisters. We're all that we have. As you said – there's nothing quite like us."

"B-But if we're 'all that we have,' shouldn't we—"

"No. You were at least partly right before – we're enemies. We always have been. And we always will be. Nothing will change that. It's part of who we are."

Noire's mouth had formed back into a thin line, her gaze turning away. "I…see."

 _My. So ruthless. Is it simply too much to give a kind word to your poor sister?_

 _Oh, gimme a break. If you think I'm going to coddle her, you've got another thing coming. She wouldn't do that for_ me, _now would she?_

 _Hm._

… _What's with the "hm?"_

 _Ah. I am merely wondering just when it was that your heart grew as cold as the ice within your homeland. That is all._

 _Like you have room to talk._

At that moment, a flash of light and a roar of thunder broke through the steady whine of drones surrounding the platform.

The CPU of Lastation managed a wry grin. "Eheh. I guess the climax needs a storm to top it off. How cliché. Right, Blanc?"

Blanc looked as if she was going to give her own snarky remark before her head snapped up, her eyes widening.

" _NO!_ " The voice of Purple Heart cut through the din, but she was far too late. The last thing she could manage was to drop down in a vain attempt to shield Blanc and Noire as the platform vanished into a pure brightness.


	23. Slightly Ahead of Schedule

"More wine, Miss Natal?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

The Duchess' assistant may not have been the most elegant of men, but the artistry he demonstrated when pouring the fruits of Leanbox's finest harvest into the sparkling glass it deserved was nothing short of perfection. Relera, on the other hand, had no qualms about simply knocking back half of the glass' aromatic contents in a single gulp. She practically slammed the glass back down when she was done, her gaze staring off elsewhere.

"If I may, Miss Natal…" The assistant's words faded away as he studied the pensive look the Duchess wore – it was becoming all too familiar. He cleared his throat before resuming, "It would appear as poor form for the gracious leader of Leanbox to allow herself to become inebriated during working hours."

"Yes, yes, I know. The world didn't fall apart the _last_ time I got drunk, did it?"

"Ah…no, but quite some effort indeed was spent recovering from that… _incident._ " The assistant took a moment to place the bottle of wine in his hands on the opposite end of the table, far out of his leader's reach. "Speaking of which – how fares Your Grace's health after her most recent… _incident?_ "

"I'm fine. And no, I'm not going to recite the multiplication tables again."

"Ah. How very curious it is that you have recovered so quickly, if I may be so presumptuous, Your Grace."

A wry smile managed to appear on the Duchess' face. "The Oracle said the same thing."

The assistant's brow shot up. "Did she, now? Ah, but surely it is not out of the question for the Goddess' Oracle to fuss over Your Grace's health as well? These bouts of forgetfulness of yours are proving to be worrisome indeed as of late."

Relera's response was interrupted by a series of staccato beeps. She reached somewhere into her dress, retrieving a phone that was currently rumbling and generally creating enough racket to make it obvious that attention needed to be directed its way. "Fifteen minutes." She leaned back as much as she could in her chair – extravagant didn't always mean comfortable – and deflated with a sigh before tossing the now-silent phone onto the table. It made a muted _thump_ as it hit the tablecloth.

Realization clicked instantly for the assistant. "Shall we open the sunroof, Your Grace?"

"Sure. Why not. That's what I'm up here for, anyway."

The lights within the tiny room faded to a dull warmness before turning off completely, leaving them in the dark. The telltale sound of a mechanical whirring then met their ears. Soon, light began to spill in through a slit in the ceiling, slowly widening as a dome opened overhead. A brilliant green glow washed into the room, eventually being revealed as the grand cityscape of Leanbox, a seemingly endless labyrinth of glittering lights and towers of concrete. All that now protected them from the outside air was a thick layer of bulletproof glass, the walls of the room having been folded away. One might be forgiven for being stricken with vertigo – peering down, one would see a geometric array of lights outlining the roof of the Basilicom far, far below.

"It's more of a moon parlor right now, don't you think?"

The assistant made sure to give a chuckle at the Duchess' comment. "Perhaps that would be so, Your Grace, were it not for even the moon being obscured during this venerable Festival of the Union."

"Alright. So it's a dark parlor. Built for staring into the abyss. Great."

Several moments passed as the Duchess sat in silence, her eyes giving a cursory look over the sight around her before settling upon a spot on the table. Her assistant wanted very much to bring up the elephant in the room, as it was, but he knew that it was far from his authority to do so. Still...

"How much longer do you believe _you-know-who_ will be able to evade capture, Your Grace?"

"Too long." Relera's gaze briefly flitted over to meet her assistant's. "I have…oh, say, ten minutes until it's too late." She abruptly jumped up to her feet, her chair sliding back slightly from the motion. Her eyes were firmly locked to a point in the distance as she stepped over to the edge of the dome, placing a hand upon the glass. "I can _see_ them. They're _right there_ – the key to…well, _everything._ Why does she have to make this so _difficult?_ " The Duchess shivered as a hauntingly familiar sensation suddenly went up her spine. She didn't bother turning around as she said, "Oh. Speak of the devil."

"I have been addressed by many titles, but 'devil' is not one that typically leaves its speaker with the ability to utter it once more."

Relera's assistant gave a deep bow. "Your Reverence! How delightful it is for you to join us as we witness the end of this wondrous Fe—"

" _Silence._ Better yet – _begone._ "

That spine-chilling feeling from earlier was replaced by a painful tingle of static. Relera, suddenly feeling quite a lot more awake, spun to see that her assistant had vanished from the room without a trace. "That's a little extreme, don't you think? I mean, not that I care much for the old man, but he has his uses every now and then."

"He will live. He has merely been _displaced._ " The Oracle straightened what had long since become her trademark hat. "Ordinarily, I would be pleased to be engaging in a verbal exercise with another, but time, as you are well aware, grows short."

"Better keep your monologue just as short then, huh? Well? Go on."

The slightest hint of annoyance flashed across the Oracle's face. "Very well, _Duchess._ The next act in this land's tortuous history is fast approaching. I am sure that you are feeling it. No one can know how the balance of power will fare in this frightening new world, but our wonderful Duchess of Leanbox is seeming to have done nearly everything within her abilities to tip the scales into her favor."

Relera's entire body gave a noticeable flinch. "Is that an accusation, Oracle?"

The Oracle abandoned all pretenses of politeness as she stepped forward, shoving her face dangerously close to that of Relera, who was forced to lean back. " _Do not_ take the Oracle of Gamindustri for a fool, Duchess. Beneath my own plans has formed a multitude of others, each an intermingling current within a single stream, all seeking to diverge at a point deemed advantageous before they are swept into the ocean. And I am well aware that one of these currents is the result of your own actions. The only unknown is the _extent_ of your disobedience."

Relera forced out a laugh that had been welling within her – but it was impossible to deny the unconscious shaking that was causing her limbs to jitter. Her laugh kept on and on, growing in fervor and mania to the point where it blew out of her own control. She was forced to step away and press her hands to the table, her chest heaving with a terrible ache by the time she managed to calm herself. "Hah! Have fun figuring _that_ out, because _I_ sure can't."

"Hmph. I will admit that you are performing an admirable job in covering your tracks. Causing damage to one's own mind and memory is a plan just harebrained enough to earn even this Mage's respect. So long have you played the role of the vain, incompetent Relera, all in the name of diverting my suspicion. How unfortunate for you that the Oracle relies upon more than just her all-seeing Eye. After all, what use is a mage who knows only a single parlor trick?" The Oracle slowly stretched out a hand, her fingers forming a clawed cup. That sense of static in the air again grew to an uncomfortable level as the space above the Oracle's palm appeared to bend and warp ever so slightly. "Precious little time remains, but there is more than enough for me to rip the fragments of conspiracy from your mind. No doubt it will be proving an interesting puzzle to piece together."

"It would be a waste of your time."

The Oracle faltered at the words that had been hardly more than a whisper. She lowered her hand, the magic above it vanishing from existence. "What do you mean?"

Relera gave a little chuckle, which was far preferable to the manic laughter she had unleashed before. "Do you honestly think that I'm any kind of threat? You've already said it before yourself, haven't you? The web of fate allows us to see countless possibilities, even as the fate we're given is inevitable. Who am I, a mere human, to deny that I am powerless in the face of such a truth?"

There was a pause as the Oracle narrowed her eyes in thought. "'A mere human,' you say. How strange. I do not recall there ever being a confirmation of such. It is merely a convenient assumption."

"Hah. Just as human as someone like you, right?"

"But of far more malleable form than I."

Time had grown even shorter than thought. As fate would have it, in that very instant, the sky above Leanbox began to shimmer and twist in a manner that resembled the magic within the Oracle's hand, playing tricks upon one's eyes in ways that a stretch of darkness most certainly should not. Seconds later, a burst of light swept soundlessly down from the heavens in one sudden, bright flash. Yet, it was not the golden disc of the sun that first met the star-struck denizens of Leanbox. The sky was not the beautiful clear blue of noon, nor even the tentative dimness of morning.

Relera blinked reflexively when she looked up to notice that the glass dome around her was being splashed by a torrent of water from above. Her vision was still reeling from the shift in brightness, and she took a moment to wipe her eyes clear before confirming what she was seeing. "It's…never rained at the end of a Festival before, has it?"

A hellish shade of orange in the form of an overcast stretched across the city, painting a most disconcerting image, especially across the coastline, where the waves appeared to have the consistency of a tangy soda. The sight was enough to replace any onlooker's previous emotional state with one akin to a fugue.

But such a feeling would be interrupted when the quietness of the event was compensated for with a belated punctuation of fanfare that could be heard all across the city, blaring from the Tower that still stood tall at its heart. At last, the capital of Leanbox was free of its darkened shroud, and the first dawn of a new age could be cast upon it.

Relera's own sense of surprise only grew when she saw the dumbfounded look that was placed upon the Oracle's face as the mage stared up at the rain.

"Impossible. It has ended before its allotted time? What manner of influence has caused this anomaly?!" The Oracle took a second to compose herself, straightening her hat once again. "Hmph. It is no matter. I will simply need to refine my hypotheses to compensate for this new observation."

A noisy buzzing suddenly filled the room, causing both occupants to turn their attention to the table.

"Well?" said the Oracle. "It is _your_ phone, is it not?"

Relera hesitated, exchanging a glance with the Oracle, before reaching for her phone. "Hello?"

"Your Grace! There is an emergency!"

The Duchess jerked the phone slightly away from her ear. "Alright, alright. What kind of emergency is it _this_ time?"

Her Basilicom's chief of security took in a deep breath before continuing, "The Mascot! It has gone missing!"

Relera raised a brow. "The Mascot?" It took a second before realization hit her. "Oh. _That_ old thing? Well, find out where it went. That's _your_ job, isn't it?"

"But, Your Grace—"

 _Beep._

The Oracle's brow was furrowed as if she was contemplating some great mystery. "Another prediction gone awry. She has never succeeded before…"

"Oh, my. Something else you don't know? What a surprise. Really."

A scowl formed on the Oracle's face as she turned her gaze back to Relera. "This has gone too far to be simple happenstance. An unknown variable has entered the equation. Perhaps _several._ " The mage stretched out her hand as she had before, again summoning the magic that promised to have ill effects upon whatever it may touch. "It is my hope that these variables lie somewhere within you. I do not ordinarily rely upon a simple hunch, but…"

Again, the Oracle's efforts were interrupted, this time by a series of loud _booms_ that shook the floor beneath them. The noise was muffled by the enclosure of the dome, but it still pounded unpleasantly against one's ears.

"Huh." Relera took the opportunity to step over to the glass and look out upon the storm-drenched city. "I don't remember there being any fireworks last time, either."

By chance, a great gust of wind blew across the ocean, creating a gap in the clouds shrouding the horizon. It was then that Relera's eyes feasted upon the welcome that awaited Leanbox – a series of masts and smokestacks in the distance, forming the ghostly outline of a fleet that stretched as far as any onlooker could see. If one strained their eyes, it was possible to make out an array of glowing dots fading in and out through the rain and fog, appearing much like the fabled will o' the wisp, or perhaps like a particularly massive swarm of fireflies.

In the next moment, the world became one of chaos as the dome around the Duchess burst open in an explosion of glass and noise.

* * *

A smile came to Red's face as she watched the destruction through her binoculars. She focused on the most famous piece of the city's skyline, that hideous table-obelisk of a Basilicom, as it was torn in half and utterly destroyed.

"Does this not seem a little excessive, er…Ms. Red?"

The woman lowered the binoculars and turned her head to look at the man standing beside her. A single glance was enough to tell any onlooker that he was a high-ranking military officer, decorated with countless medals upon his pristine suit.

"You would question me, admiral?" Her words were punctuated by the firing of yet another shell packed full of explosive powder from one of the ship's many turrets.

The man took a step back and made a slight bow in apology. "No, Ms. Red. It just seems that the collateral damage resulting from this attack will be…well, extreme, to say the least."

Red studied the admiral for several moments. His face was unreadable, but the sweat upon his brow betrayed the emotions of even this hardened veteran. "Leanbox cannot be saved. It is a land poisoned by heretics. By the order of the Goddess of Gamindustri, they must all die. It is as simple as that."

The man bowed again. "Yes, Ms. Red. Of course, Ms. Red."

She brought the binoculars back up to further examine the wreckage of the city. "What?" the woman gasped as something caught her eye.

What appeared to be four large, colorful birds emerged from a pillar of smoke and dust. Their forms were indistinct at such a distance, but it quickly became clear that they were not natural creatures. She zoomed in and unsuccessfully attempted to follow one of them as it moved about. Then, it halted in the air…and its true nature was revealed.

"What is it, Ms. Red?"

She turned back to the admiral, her expression blank. "Press the attack with everything we have. We cannot afford defeat. Not this time."

 _End of Experiment Log S-H-540: Null Heart, Part 1. Please insert the tape marked Experiment Log S-H-540: Null Heart, Part 2 to continue.  
_

* * *

 _AN: Anddddd...that's a wrap. I hope it was an entertaining journey reading through this novel-length story. I definitely had fun writing it, as many pains as I went through to revise and revise and revise until it was just how I wanted it. This story started out as an entirely different beast, all the way back when Re;Birth 3 wasn't even available on PC!_

 _Now, you may be wondering…what's up with the cliffhanger ending? Well, the answer to that is that this is just the first part of a trilogy! We'll next be switching gears to Lastation, where heresy most foul is afoot. Rumors that the Decadent Devils have returned spread through the darkest corners of the seediest bars, and ASIC only grows bolder in its activities in the wake of its old enemy's revival. Enter Cave – private eye. Does she still have the chops to peel apart a world-wide shadow war of conspiracy? Or will the ghosts of her past overwhelm her?_

 _If you enjoyed this, then head on over to Null Heart: Reference Exception! And if you didn't enjoy it, leave me a review and tell me why so I can do better next time!_


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